The Uncertain Future
by CarolynneRuth
Summary: Sequel to Forgotten Lives. Six months have passed by and life is anything but normal despite Arthur wishing it were. Uther had his own plans for how his life should go and god help anyone who happened to get in his way. Plenty of friendship, adventure, angst and romance with a good dose of humor where needed. Lot's of favorite Merlin characters involved.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: As promised here is the sequel to Forgotten Lives! I got the idea for the title from the British Army website which read - 'Securing Britain in an uncertain world.'**

**Enjoy!**

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_**CHAPTER ONE.**_

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Everything was dark, like a cloudy black night with not even the smallest glimmer of light. Was this how it felt to die? Was he dead? Merlin coughed, finding it difficult to breath. A sharp pain filled his head. No, given the intensity of pain he was still very much alive. His whole body ached. He tried to make sense of the befuddled images drifting through his head.

What had happened?

Where was he?

How had he ended up in this place? His eyes scanned the room but he couldn't see a thing. The darkness was suffocating and he felt sudden panic well up in his throat. Tears burned his eyes.

"Arthur," he tried calling but his voice was soundless.

What was wrong with him? He tried moving but his arms and legs wouldn't co-operate. The panic he had felt now turned to dread. He was imprisoned within his own body. He fought to remain calm, his heart pounding in his chest.

A tap dripped in the distance. Someone was quietly weeping. It sounded like a girl.

"He's waking up."

A fragmented voice drifted through the darkness. He felt something sharp prick into his arm, an icy cold liquid slid into his veins. The panic returned in full force.

"W-What are you doing to him?" A girl whimpered in a scared broken voice. "Leave him alone ... please."

He recognised her voice; Emma. Horror replaced the panic.

They had Emma! He had to get to her ... he had to ... his eyes flew open. A bright explosion of white light burned the back of his retina. He blinked, tried swallowing but his throat was to dry. Some feeling began to return to his useless limbs. He started thrashing, hard cold metal dug into his wrists and ankles.

"Merlin!" he heard Emma cry. "You have to fight it!"

He felt an energy pulsating through his whole being, fighting to be released. He couldn't control. It wasn't a matter of just being scared he was now totally terrified. His magic swirled up and outwards. His eyes glowed with the golden fire of his magic.

"Stand back!" he heard a woman warn.

A cry broke forth from his throat in his attempt to control his own magic. But it erupted out of him and he uttered the words, as he always did, when finding himself in some dire predicament.

"Draca, eom, ala, sece findan metan, teosu hus anbid!"

His head fell back in sudden exhaustion against the hard metal table he found himself on. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. What was the point ... there were no dragons left to call.

"Did you see that," the same woman exclaimed. "You see his eyes."

She sounded excited. "What is that ... Jarred?"

"An energy force of some kind Ma'am, just nothing I've ever seen before."

"Someone translate the words he just said."

As shattered as Merlin felt he forced his eyes open. He had to make sense on what was happening, find some way of rescuing Emma and getting them out of where ever they were. His eyes frantically searched for her till they found her sitting on a chair, knees drawn up to her chest, tears trickling down her pale cheeks. Her eyes met with his. He wanted to tell her sorry, how sorry he was for dragging her into this ugly mess.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Her eyes filled up with more tears at the helpless pitiful sight he so obviously presented.

He felt a hand grip his chin and yank his head, forcing him to gaze up into a pair of cold blue assessing eyes.

"What ..." he spluttered relieved to find he had a voice again, "Are ... where am I?"

The woman smiled, but her smile was as cold as the icy detachment in her eyes. "You are in a laboratory."

It took a moment for those words to sink into his befuddled brain then it slowly dawned on him.

"I'm your lab rat," he muttered hoarsely.

She removed her hand from his chin. If he could, he would have recoiled from her touch, but he was strapped to what could only be described as an operating table, iron clasps on both his wrists and ankles. His magic obviously hadn't been strong enough to release him. They must have suppressed it somehow? Pumping him full of some sort of drug, which is why he hadn't been able to move or speak.

"We are a research institution. We test, experiment with unusual findings that cannot be explained with any sort of logical definition or terminology," she explained, her eyes raking over him before resting on his face. The words _test_ and _experiment _causing him to shudder.

"You're an anomaly Merlin, a freak of nature."

He watched as she began to circle him, his heart beating erratically in his chest. Who was she? He frantically tried to remember the events that led him here, but nothing was forth coming. Think ... think Merlin! The woman stopped her pacing and leaned over him, her face mere inches from his. A finger trailed over his cheek. "What are you exactly?"

He tried swallowing again, but his mouth felt like sand paper. "Let the girl go and I'll tell you what it is you want to know."

The woman just smiled in a cruel way that was of no comfort. "I can't do that, she is a surety that you will do as we ask."

"Don't ... Merlin," Emma managed to speak in a choked voice. "Don't listen to her, you have to fight them, don't give in. I'll be fine."

"Someone shut her up!" the woman barked angrily.

Merlin watched with growing horror as a stocky man slapped Emma hard across the face, before yanking a handful of her hair and thrusting his face into hers. "Speak again and you'll be getting more of that."

White hot rage engulfed him. His eyes rested on the now angry red welt on her face. Her eyes widened in fear, whimpering she buried her face in her hands. His heart constricted in his chest.

He tried summoning up his magic, but it was no use. With a horrible sinking realisation he became painfully aware that he was totally in their control.

"I'm sure you don't want to see the girl suffer," the woman spoke.

He turned his hate filled glare to hers. Her cold forbidding gaze held his.

"Jarred," she began, her eyes never leaving his face, "bring me the vial."

An elderly man with horn rimmed glasses came into view, holding a kidney dish. He watched as she picked up the needle, pulling back on the syringe, giving it a flick. Yellow liquid of some sort oozed out.

His whole body stiffened in sudden alarm. "What is that?"

What did they want from him? What were they going to do? Who were they? How did he end up here?

"Think of this like a truth serum. It will make you tell me everything, anyone you've ever loved or cared for, everything that you've done your whole life long."

He blinked rapidly, as a new kind of dread took hold. No ... they can't ... he can't remember, he can never go back there.

"And you've lived a long time haven't you Merlin?"

His panicked gaze flew to Emma's. She looked so dejected, lost and sad. Her lips trembled as her imploring eyes met his. A silent message sent between them. He could see what she wanted him to do; use his magic. But he couldn't.

"Don't fight it effects Merlin. The experience will only be even more unpleasant for you than it already will be."

Emma's eyes widened, stricken. He tore his gaze away from her and towards the woman who loomed before him, the sound of his hard laboured breathing filling the air.

"Why are doing this ... what do you want from me?" he asked, struggling to suppress the tremor in his voice.

The woman merely smiled in her cold calculating way. "In order to harness the energy you possess I need to know where it came from, who you are, what you are."

Merlin dreaded the worst and screwed his eyes shut.

"Just relax Merlin."

He felt the needle pierce his upper arm. He tried to remain calm as possible, but he couldn't think for the blood rushing to his head. A sudden fiery pain raced through his body causing his back to arch. Memories took hold. Painful terrible memories, each one ripping through his emotions, and he cried out. "Make it stop, please ... make it stop," he pleaded, his whole body now shaking, uncontrollably.

"Don't fight it Merlin," a disembodied voice whispered through the painful fog that filled his head. "Go back," the voice continued, "all the way back to the very beginning."

He collapsed back onto the table, his mind slipping through time like flicking through the pages of a book.

"Who are you?"

His head thrashed from side to side as he tried to fight the effects of the drug, but the pain now raging through him became too much. He just wanted to escape it. Felt a deep seated exhaustion take hold.

His mother appeared before him, and he ran into her welcoming arms; _'Merlin.'_

_She held him tenderly, stroking his damp hair that was plastered to his forehead._

'_What am I?'_

'_A boy Merlin, a different, unique boy, but so very very special, never doubt if for a moment, I love you my son but you must be careful. There will be people that will try to kill you for what you are or even worse control you. You must keep you're magic a secret.'_

"_Y-Yes ... secret," he mumbled. _

"_What is the secret Merlin?" The voice was coaxing, soothing almost and he couldn't resist it._

"_Magic ... I-I have magic ... I was born with it."_

"_When were you born Merlin?"_

"_Years ... many years."_

"_How long have you lived?"_

"_A thousand – four hundred years."_

"_What are you?"_

He made some feeble attempt to fight once more. The dragon flashed before his eyes; _'young warlock'._

He wanted to reach out to Kilgarrah, beg him to save him.

"_What are you Merlin," came the same coaxing voice that he couldn't refuse._

"_W-Warlock ... I'm a warlock, the last of my kind."_

He didn't know how much time had passed because he was no longer there. He was trapped in a nightmare world, re-living every single memory and moment he'd spent on this earth. Faces of people he had known, places he'd been, things he had done, all of his regrets; every pain filled moment he'd lived and suffered.

He wanted to forget, everything. Never open his eyes again, never see the light of day such was his torment.

Eventually the world slowly began to return to normal. A flicker of rationalization flared in his mind. But he was spent, saturated in sweat, weak and helpless. The raw emotions leaving him nothing more than a shattered empty shell, he couldn't even summon the strength to open his eyes. In the distance he could hear a voice calling to him, "You have to come back Merlin ... come back to me ... please ... you have to be alright!"

They sounded so distraught, so sad. His own face was wet with tears. He felt like he'd re-lived a thousand years over again. But somewhere through the haze he fought to hold onto the memories that brought him hope, nothing more than a fading thought. He grasped it. Arthur; if he could only reach Arthur.

Summoning what little strength he had left he whispered one last spell through his parched lips. "ahreddan me ... findan me ... laboratory ... hurry ... Arthur."

He shuddered in a breath. Then darkness claimed him and he welcomed it.

.

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* * *

_**~~Twelve months earlier~~**_

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_**.**_

Arthur waited impatiently by the front door for Merlin. He ran a frustrated hand through his newly cropped hair, which felt odd given the somewhat longish mop it'd been in the many months of convalescing from his injured leg. He tugged at the brace on the same said leg glad to finally be free of that infernal contraption he'd endured for five long months. Least it had only been five months instead of the eight month prognosis he'd initially been given by the orthopaedic specialists.

Thanks to Merlin's healing spell. Unlike a lot of other people with his type of injury his recovery had gone smoothly and quickly. He still had to wear a brace on his leg for another month and attend therapy sessions three times a week to restore range of motion in his leg, especially his ankle which was the worst affected.

Merlin would use what he called _'a little bit of magic'_ which helped with him regaining motion without it appearing overly suspicious. The medical professionals often declaring his leg had healed at an exceptionally, and somewhat amazing rate and that he was very lucky given the type of fracture he'd had. He was lucky, he had Merlin. At first he'd been apprehensive letting Merlin use magic on his leg. He still had nightmares of him collapsing by his bedside when he'd first used magic in hospital, saving his leg from being amputated but at great risk to his own fragile health at that time.

Merlin was back to full health now, though he still walked with a discernable limp, especially when tired; the doctors had assured him it would improve with time.

It had been a long road to recovery for both of them. Arthur was now walking fine, though slowly. He wasn't allowed to do much of anything in the way of exercise other than swimming. Swimming wasn't an option for him. His legs were still horribly scarred and though he would never admit, he was self conscious of it. He still had to wear the pressurised bandages on them. But at least he could now bloody well drive a car again, and he no longer had to answer people's nosy questions, which Merlin never had a problem with. But then he never had had Merlin's patience.

He would have gone mental, he was sure, if Merlin hadn't been with him. Thinking of Merlin, what the hell was taking him so long? At this rate he was going to be late for his first day back at work.

"Merlin!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the cottage and up the staircase.

Gwaine came waltzing through the front door, obviously returning from doing a night shift.

"Alright keep your hair on tubby," he remarked with a quick grin.

Arthur gritted his teeth, Gwaine's new nickname for him and not terribly original.

"I'm not tubby," he retorted.

Gwaine's smile merely widened and he had the audacity to pat his stomach. "You keep telling yourself that Princess, nothing wrong with living in denial."

He glared at him. How the hell Gwaine had managed to get posted to the same base as him after his tour of duty was over was beyond Arthur. Clearly the gods were laughing at him. Or maybe the gods just didn't know what the hell they were doing? Because seriously his life was anything but normal or simple, how could it be?

He'd previously been the King of Camelot and now he was living again in the 21st century; that wasn't normal.

When someone fell in love, a relationship should be able to develop, which would involve dating, getting close maybe even eventually leading to marriage. And what did he have? A deranged father that had sent the woman he loved to the far ends of the earth in an attempt to keep them apart, and if she so much as saw him his father would probably have her head. That wasn't normal.

The same people he'd been friends with in the so called 9th century he was still friends with in the 21st century ... not normal. Then there was Merlin. Merlin looked just like any other average young man out there trying to make his way in life. They were best friends, they hung out, but unlike his other friends out there Merlin had magic. Oh and he happened to have lived over one thousand and four hundred years – definitely not normal!

His life was complex and complicated but he wished more than anything, it was just boringly ordinary. Only the last five months had been incredibly tedious and frustrating. He drank and ate more out of boredom alone. And it had caught up with him a bit. Okay, so he had put on some weight as a result. It was expected given he hadn't been able to do any physical exertion for last six months. It had taken its toll on his body as much as he didn't want to admit it. In the past he would go for a long run whenever he felt disgruntled or frustrated, but as that was no longer an option for him he'd resorted to eating and drinking more beer than usual. And he'd had plenty of frustration these last six months. If Gwen had been here it would have been different. But he hadn't seen her for six long painful months and in that time his bitter resentment towards his father had increased. He lived in an age of so called freedom only he really wasn't anymore free now than he had been before. Uther Pendragon still controlled many facets of his life, and he was merely the puppet dancing on the end of his string.

He could piss his old man off, tell him he wanted nothing to do with him but what good would it do? It wouldn't change his or Gwen's current situation. So he contemplated heeding Morgana's advice, _'Get into his good books again, make him believe you have forgotten Gwen and take a new found interest in the business.'_

He could still see her pacing the lounge room floor of the Cottage the other day._ 'Watch everything he does,' she'd continued, 'look for his weaknesses, look for ways we can exploit him.'_

He'd squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa. Right now he still hated the sight of his father. He didn't know if he could bring himself to be civil to him. Even after being discharged from hospital and having to live, once again, in that large gloomy mansion he'd avoided his father as much as possible. How the months had dragged by. One day had seemed to blur into the next. After two months of that he had decided to move in with Merlin. Merlin had to spend another month in hospital before he was discharged and then he stayed with Gaius whilst recovering.

Gaius hadn't minded him coming to stay. "_I was expecting you," he'd said with that knowing glint in his eyes. "Merlin will be happy, he's bored to tears."_

He knew all about that.

They had spent the next several months watching a lot of DVD's and far too much television. They played board games, debated politics, argued over what TV program to watch. More often than not they grated on each other's nerves, Merlin still called him a prat and a host of other names, but Arthur wouldn't be without him. It had made those months bearable. When the frustration and sometimes depression hit him, Merlin would tell him yarns about the different things and jobs he had over the years. He liked hearing them, the stories were strangely soothing, _'you're like a regular history walking book Merlin,' _he'd tell him. Merlin would smile, obviously liking the analogy. '_Yeah I guess I am.'_

Surprisingly his father hadn't complained when he told him he was going to stay with his friend Emmett at Gaius' house. His father respected Gaius. He was someone important, an esteemed professional and that made him worthy in his father's eyes. Unfortunately Uther often did visit, even staying for dinner. What riveting conversations they held. Arthur choosing to say little as possible, and the night generally ended up with a lecture of sorts once Gaius and Merlin were out of earshot.

"_I do not understand Gaius' affection for the young man?" The boy is not much more than a commoner. He had sense to join the Army and make something of his life and for that he is to be commended I guess."_

_Arthur gritted his teeth. If only his father really knew who Merlin was. And if he did he would probably try to kill him - again._

"_He has also managed to impress you as well," his father continued, with a wry shake of his head, he glanced at him, "I never could understand you Arthur, the friends you chose ..." his father voice broke off there and the unsaid hung between them, 'the women.'_

"_I must be a big disappointment for you," he'd returned, feeling both glad and bitter about it._

_His father's eyes raked over him and Arthur would see the displeasure on his face. _"_Sometimes I wonder if you are aware of who you are and what you'll become?"_

_Oh he was definitely well aware of that, just he didn't want it._

"_You dress so scruffy now Arthur," his father continued, "You are a Pendragon and should act the part."_

_He went out of his way to dress deliberately scruffy when he knew his father was coming. It gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction._

"_You need a haircut.'_

_He supposed he did, though they'd been little point if he wasn't back at work yet._

"_You need to shave and you need to start caring about your appearance again."_

_It was around this time Arthur would begin to drone his father's voice out, wondering when he'd be done with this lecture. He would find himself longing for the solitude and confines of his room._

"_I watched you tonight, what you ate, and how much wine you had to drink."_

_Arthur rolled his eyes. His father was merely just getting warmed up and the lecture was far from over. _"_You don't have anything better to do with your time father?" he dryly quipped._

_His father's eyes narrowed. "Gaius and I had only one glass of wine to your three," he continued._

_Next time he'd make sure it was four just to piss him off even further._

"_There's not much else to do but drink."_

_Which, unfortunately was true._

"_And you've put on weight."_

"_I don't care," he snorted. _

_His father was visibly shocked. "You don't care," he gasped, "How can you not care?"_

_His father stood directly in front of him, pointed a finger in his face. "You are in a rut."_

"_It's my problem, not yours," he sighed._

"_That girl has done this to you."_

_It always came back to Gwen. It even hurt hearing him call her 'that girl'. It brought back a rush of bitter resentment that had been his constant companion these last four months._

"_Yes let's blame Gwen and not the real culprit which is you father."_

"_I was doing it for your own good."_

_He shook his head. "I'm tired of this conversation. You might control my life but you can't control what I do on a day to day basis." He took a deep breath and pin pointed his father with a stony glare. "What I eat or what I drink is my business."_

_The look on his father's face was priceless. For once the man had nothing to say. _"_Now if you'll excuse me I'm tired and I think I'll go to bed."_

_With that he gripped the crutches tightly in his hands. "See you later father," he muttered and left._

_He went in search of Merlin, still inwardly fuming but also feeling strangely hollow. When would this be over? How in the hell was he ever going to be free of his father?_

_He needed Merlin. The young man had a way of calming him. He found him in the lounge room, sitting on the sofa, the television was on but Merlin didn't appear to be watching it. Arthur flopped down onto the sofa letting his crutches fall to the ground._

"_Just shoot me now Merlin and put me out of my misery," he muttered heavily. "Or better still just shoot my father and this will all be over."_

_Merlin glanced at him, a slight wry grin crossing his face. "You want me to kill him?"_

_If only it was that easy. But no, he really didn't want Merlin to have murder on his hands._

"_It won't be forever Arthur."_

"_Feels like it though," he murmured, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair._

"_Don't worry, Morgana will be back next month and if anyone can bring your father down, it would be her."_

_Morgana was, after all, the perfect schemer and better still; she was on their side now._

That had been two months ago and he hadn't seen his father since. Getting in his father's good books considering all that had taken place between them these last six months wasn't an option. He didn't know if he could do what Morgana suggested currently feeling the way that he did. The bitter resentment towards his father ate away at him. He hated feeling this way. He was sick of waiting. His life felt as if it were in limbo. Half the time he didn't know what to do with himself.

At last Merlin was coming down the stairs. It seemed odd seeing Merlin back in uniform as much as it was odd to be wearing the Army uniform again. In a strange twist of fate Merlin had also been posted to the same base as him.

_"Not my doing Arthur," Merlin had said, "Guess I'm just fated to follow you through life."_

Arthur wouldn't have it any other way.

The base they had been posted at, Aldershot, was conveniently close to the cottage and hence them all now living there, a much better alternative to living on base. Though sharing a house with Gwaine had its moments. The said man was now waltzing up the stairs looking far too cheery for Arthur's liking.

"Enjoy your day at work lads, I'll think of you when I'm fast asleep," he said over his shoulder. "Oh and Merlin you might want to keep Princess away from the morning tea lady, and her trolley full of all those delicious cakes and biscuits. His waistline could certainly do without that."

Merlin grinned, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I'll try, but you know Arthur."

Arthur rolled his eyes and snorted in contempt. Would he never hear the end of it? Just how long would it be before he could go running again? And why was it that Merlin, who also hadn't been able to do any exercise, was still skinny? Did the young man have hollow legs? But then Merlin ate healthy. Merlin didn't drink beer or any alcohol for that matter. Though he had filled out somewhat and wasn't so gaunt like he'd been in hospital. There was a healthy colour in his face again, a sparkle in his eyes.

"What took you so long," he hissed when Merlin reached him. "Now as a result I had to be subjected to Gwaine's teasing."

"You should be used to it by now," he replied with a smile.

He merely grumbled under his breath, grabbed Merlin by the arm and half dragged him out of the front door.

"You want me to drive Arthur?" he asked as they walked to the car.

"No offence Merlin, but you drive like an old man."

Merlin tilted his head to the side as if considering that statement before replying, "None taken."

They climbed into the car.

"No offence Arthur but you drive as if you own the road."

Trust Merlin to have the last say, he mused.

"I find myself fearing for my life," he continued in a teasing manner, glancing his way.

He shook his head and put the keys into the ignition.

"I hear they run support help courses for people suffering from road rage," Merlin continued. "You should consider it Arthur."

* * *

Merlin eventually shut up, though for a while Arthur began to wonder if he would ever stop prattling about how terrible his driving was.

His thoughts drifted to Gwen's latest letter as he drove to base. They wrote letters to each other as a means of communication, addressing them to and from Merlin so his father wouldn't get suspicious. Sometimes they even chatted on Skype, if the she was in range, which wasn't often. She had been sent out to a field hospital in a remote camp with limited facilities. No doubt his father had a hand in that as well, he silently fumed. It wasn't doing much for his already frustrated and often angry state of mind. But Gwen was due for a two week R&R break shortly and they now discussed ways they could secretly meet without his father finding out. And this is what his life had been reduced to! He was 24 years old and having to sneak around like a child just to see the girl he happened to love. What he wouldn't give for a simple life!

It had been harder to read her letters as time passed. Despite her attempts at being forcibly cheerful he could still tell she was extremely homesick. She was now all alone over there. Lancelot and Percival finished their tour of duty at Camp Bastion two months back and were now posted at Dalton Barracks. They all still kept in contact on a regular basis. Morgana had returned from Camp Bastion a month ago and was posted at the Bulford Camp. And Gwen was still at Camp Bastion, in Afghanistan, which rankled Arthur to no end. It wasn't fair, but then since when did life play fair?

It was even worse when she wrote stuff like; _I love you, I miss you, I think about you all the time. _It made his longing to see her and the pain that would reside in the pit of his guts much worse.

His letters were less expressive. He tried to keep it light and a bit humorous by writing about how annoying Gwaine was. He wrote about the antics he and Merlin got up to. He wrote about how good it felt to have the external fixation removed from his leg. There were so many everyday activities he had taken for granted. How he had developed a new found appreciation for the simple things in life. Simple things like driving a car, walking down to the local corner shop to buy a paper, wearing jeans as opposed to shorts he'd had no option to wear for five months. Being able to curl up in his favourite sleeping position when in bed and not having to get around on crutches, which he now had permanent calluses on his hands from.

He didn't write about his often dark moods. The depression he sometimes felt when all alone. The doubts he had about ever being free of his father's control. Merlin had a knack of getting him out of his dark frame of mind but there were still enough times he couldn't shake the lethargy that often overcame him. Hopefully now he was back at work it would get better.

"How's it feel going back to work?" Merlin asked breaking into his train of thought.

"Least it's better than being stuck at home but no doubt I'll be relegated to clerical duties only for the time being."

Merlin let out a deep sigh. "Yeah tell me about, all I've done is stock shelves with medical supplies, order stock we need and sterilising."

He had started back at work several weeks before him.

"How are you going to survive without Oprah every afternoon Arthur?" Merlin lightly teased.

Arthur snorted.

"And Dr Phil," he continued, "Solving everyday lives problems."

"He reminds me of Agravine. I just don't trust him, there's something not right about him."

They had had many conversations about the various television programs they'd been subjected to over the last six months, too many. Not to mention the amount of DVD's they had watched. Harry Potter several times over and Lord of the Rings, which was Merlin's favourite.

"_You reckon magic will ever come back?" he'd once asked him._

_They had sat on the couch, in the dark, Merlin just having turned the television off._

"_I don't know, I don't think people believe in it anymore. It's stuff of myths and legends now."_

"_Then why are there so many books, films even television programs about it?"_

_Merlin would take so long to answer that Arthur would have to prompt him by nudging him. A pained look would fill Merlin's eyes, a look Arthur had gotten to know all too well._

"_I've lived a long time Arthur, saw many terrible things done, innocent people burnt at the stake during the middle ages ... people always so afraid of what they don't understand. Magic seeped back into the ground from where it came in a world that couldn't accept it."_

_Merlin still managed to astound him with his knowledge and wisdom. _

"_Magic is now nothing more than an elusive dream and wish for a bygone era. It's gone but never forgotten."_

"_And the future?"_

"_The future is never set in stone."_

_He had spent so many hours contemplating his own future. Why he now existed? What it meant?_

"_Why do we long for peace whilst the whole world is driven by power and greed? How can peace ever be accomplished whilst these two opposing forces exist?" _

"_It's because of the drive of men for power that we long for peace, an end to tyranny, a restoration of what should have been from the inception of our very own existence." _

"_What are you saying Merlin?"_

_He sighed. "I don't think it was ever meant to be this way, which is why we live in an uncertain world, full of doubt and far too much insecurity. We are always searching, searching for something that, it seems, never can be found." _

"_Then what is the point of it all?"_

"_Hope," Merlin simply returned, "we have to live in hope ... believe in it, if we don't ... what else is there?"_

At this moment in time Arthur was finding it hard to hope about anything. Since when had he become so cynical? He hated the bitterness that often filled his heart. But he clung to Merlin's words as if they were a lifeline. He really would be lost without him.

"You given anymore thought about what Morgana said the other night?" Merlin asked him.

He slowly shook his head. "I don't know if I can," he admitted, "get in father's good books feeling the way I do."

"I understand."

Merlin always did; always had.

"You given anymore thought to contacting Emma?"

Merlin suddenly turned to him shocked, eyes widening. "How did you know ..." he began.

"You've been looking at that bit of paper you carry on you for months Merlin."

"B-But," he spluttered.

"Curiosity got the better of me and you weren't any forth coming with information when I asked you about it so I went through your wallet and found it."

Arthur tried not to smile at the gobsmacked expression on Merlin's face. "You went through my wallet," he gasped, "t-that's ... sneaky."

His smile widened. "Yeah I'm learning it from you."

Merlin shut his mouth and frowned at him.

"And when have you ever had the chance to meet a girl?" he continued.

"I'm not seeing any girl," he muttered appearing flustered.

Arthur was confused and also surprised. He tried thinking over the few times they ever went anywhere and he couldn't remember Merlin talking to a girl and then it clicked.

"Was she the girl at the tavern all those months back? You were talking to her outside?"

Given Merlin's sudden guarded expression he knew he was spot on. "Alright, yeah, it's her number."

Merlin truly did keep his little secrets.

"You've not rang her?"

"No."

He quickly averted his gaze and Arthur's curiosity increased. "Why?"

Merlin glanced down at his hands, which were now clasped together. "It's complicated."

"How's it complicated. From memory she was pretty, though maybe a bit young ... is that what you mean? After all if you went out with her that would make you one hell of a cradle snatcher," he grinned and nudged him.

"Just concentrate on the road Arthur before you get us both killed."

He really was touchy about the whole girl thing, Arthur mused. Just exactly how long had it been since he was last with a woman?

"It's not as if you look old now. What are you? About 22 years of age so to speak? If she's 18 that's only four years ..."

"It's not that, it's just ..." he paused, looking somewhat pained, "I knew her before."

He frowned at him and the way he was now kind of wringing his hands together.

"From Camelot days Arthur," he hastily continued.

"I don't ever remember seeing her."

"She was after your time," Merlin said and taking a deep breath he blurted out, "she was your grand-daughter."

Arthur sat in shocked silence. Had Merlin just said what he thought he said? No ... how was that even possible? It can't be; can it?

"She probably just reminds you of her," he eventually returned.

That had to be it.

Merlin shook his head. "It's her. I know it is, there were things she had said," he sighed, "things that only she could know."

"And she remembered you?"

"No but she felt the connection."

Arthur was completely stumped now. See, this was how his life was anything but normal.

"B-But how is that even possible Merlin? If she was my granddaughter then what is she doing here now?"

He shook his head. "I really don't know how this works anymore than you Arthur, but you know given your heritage line you'd have over a thousand descendents by now."

Arthur hadn't really thought about that. A thousand descendant's ... really?

"The only thing I can think of is that maybe she has some part to play in the future and the so called formation of Albion."

"You still believe in that?" he snorted.

"It's the only explanation as to why we are all here. Why I've lived so long."

Silence descended as Arthur pulled into the base and found a parking spot.

"You don't believe Arthur?"

He slowly shook his head. "I don't know what I believe anymore," he muttered as he opened the car door and climbed out.

* * *

Merlin sat there in the car, not moving. Arthur was becoming more cynical by the day. It was a worry. He was a worry. Being separated from Gwen was beginning to take its toll on him. Uther needed to be horse whipped. But until they had gathered enough evidence and proof to bring him down there was little either of them could do about it.

Now Morgana was back she was hell bent on exposing Uther. They talked a lot about it. It seemed so weird to be conspiring with her, but it also felt good, right somehow. She was currently looking into the death of her mother, certain there was more to her death and a lot of facts were covered up.

She had been trying to talk Arthur into getting into Uther's good books, but judging by the look on Arthur's face whenever she mentioned that, Merlin could tell it was the last thing he wanted to do, the words he'd uttered a moment ago confirming it.

"_You have to convince him Merlin,"_ she said to him the other week when she had come over for dinner. _He was walking her to her car, parked in the driveway._

"_We need him to play his part."_

_He turned to her in the half light cast from porch lamp, her face was tense. "Arthur isn't in a good place," he told her._

"_I can see that!"_

_Yes, he could tell. Not to mention the many conversations they had had about what to do with Arthur?_

"_I'm worried about him."_

_So was he._

"_I think once Gwen returns for her R&R and he sees her he'll be in a better place and then maybe he'll be more willing."_

_Morgana unlocked her car, her long dark hair falling like a curtain to partially obscure her face._

"_The difference between me and Arthur is that I think with my head and he thinks with his heart."_

_Merlin wasn't entirely convinced about that but she was able to control her emotions, when it came to Uther, effectively well in comparison to Arthur._

"_Let's hope she can snap him out of his current lethargic state of being," she continued._

_He was certain she would. It was Gwen after all. If anyone could sort Arthur out it would be her. _

"_He's lucky to have you."_

_He detected the faint wistful tone in her voice, felt a tightness in his stomach at her words._

"_You are not alone Morgana," he softly spoke._

_It was important she knew that and held onto it. _

_Her expression softened. "You are a good friend, to all of us."_

_He nodded and opened the car door for her._

"_Ever the gentleman too," she continued, managing a smile._

_He shrugged casually. "Old habits die hard." _

_She lowered herself into the driver's seat. He had his hand resting on the top on the car door. She glanced up at him._

"_How is your magic feeling?"_

"_Good," he frowned puzzled, "Why?"_

"_You doing anything next Saturday?"_

_He shook his head, still confused._

"_I need your help with some research I'm doing. I may require the use of magic to get into places I can't otherwise get into."_

"_This to do with your mother?"_

_She nodded. "Yes."_

"_I'll help you."_

_She smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you Merlin."_

Arthur's impatient rapping on the car door window startled him out of the memory. He turned his head and glanced up at Arthur's impatient scowl.

"Are you day dreaming again Merlin."

Sighing he opened the car door, remembering back to his encounter with the Diamair, _'what is Arthur's bane?'_

'_Himself.'_

How true those words had been, with a shake of his head he slowly realised that it was still true in this lifetime; unfortunately.

"You know sometimes you do remind me of a doddery old man," Arthur remarked as he slowly climbed out the car.

He scowled at him. Arthur smiled in that smug way of his and they began walking towards reception.

"You like pottering around in the garden, cooking, reading and you certainly take your merry time with getting anything done," he continued.

Oh, so he was being amusing now.

"Least I keep active," he quipped, casting a sly glance Arthur's way. "As opposed to you being a couch potato and sitting all day long in front of the idiot box, becoming even more of an idiot than you already are."

"Merlin," he began warningly.

"Yeah I know, shut up."

"You got it."

Merlin quietly murmured a spell under his breath and the car keys flew out of Arthur's pocket and into his hand.

Arthur stopped and turned to face him, frowning with suspicion. "Did you just use magic?"

"Yeah, I got the car keys," he grinned, waving them in front of Arthur's annoyed face. "Looks like I'm driving us home."

Arthur frowned in a not happy way. "That's cheating Merlin."

His grin widened. "I know." He patted Arthur on the shoulder. "You better bring a good book to read on the way home. You know how slow I drive." He raised an eyebrow. "Just like an old man."

Arthur still didn't look impressed. "Merlin," he began evenly, "Give me the car keys back - now."

He shook his head and began walking towards the medical facilities, glancing over his shoulder at Arthur, who was glaring at him.

"Least we'll get home safely," he couldn't help saying, "I'll see you at five, don't be late."

He kept walking, shoving the keys in his pocket, a wide smile still plastered to his face.

"You know you are really annoying Merlin," Arthur called after him.

"I know and you'd get bored if I wasn't," he returned over his shoulder.

"I don't know how I put up with you."

"Same here."

He saw Arthur shake his head, a slow amused smile crossing his face. Merlin shoved his hands in his pockets, the warm summer breeze gently teasing his hair. Some days it felt good to be alive. And it always felt good when he had one up on Arthur.

.

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* * *

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**A/N: Please review and let me know what you think. I am really very anxious to see if people like the first chapter of this sequel? **

**I'm quite excited about where this story will go, though it took a while for me to figure out where and what I would do. **

**I couldn't help doing the whole circular narrative thing. You can blame Inception for that :) **** It also makes the first chapter more interesting, because most of the chapter is taken up with setting and place and reflection, on Arthur's behalf, of what had happened over the past six months.**

** I have the whole story figured out in my head but I've not written it all. You would have waited six months probably if I did that and by that stage you probably would have given up on me writing this sequel!**

**The next four weeks of my life are extremely hectic, just like the last four weeks have been, but after that I will have a few weeks leave. So I'm not sure how quick I will be with updates over that time. I'll try my best. **

**Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and encouragement. I was amazed at how many people favourite and alerted this story on just the first chapter! It's also kind of daunting knowing how many people are reading this story, daunting in as much as that I really don't want to disappoint. **

**This chapter took forever to write! I'm really busy at present and when I manage to find time to write it just isn't flowing in the way I would like. So as much as I am happy with the ideas, I just don't think I wrote them as well as I usually do. Alas, I guess that's the frustrations and insecurities in the life of a writer in that we are always thinking, 'this could be better.' **

**That being said, I still hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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* * *

_**Chapter Two.**_

* * *

Uther sat at the board room table, watching the newest employee discuss the industries latest share holdings. He was impressive, well spoken, dressed smartly in a suit and tie, hair combed back neatly. Uther leaned towards George and whispered. "What is the young man's name?"

"Leon Payne, he came highly recommended. Has a double degree with honours in Commerce and Business."

He leaned back into his seat. If only Arthur was as interested and as passionate about the Pendragon Industries as this young man appeared to be. But the only things Arthur seemed interested in these days, was moping about feeling sorry for himself and drinking far more than he was happy about. It was like he had no purpose. No doubt the injuries he'd suffered from the bomb blast hadn't helped with that. But it had been six months and he should be over it. Not to mention that Arthur appeared too attached to all the wrong types of people. Sending the girl away, so far, had appeared to have had a detriment affect upon him. Uther figured he would eventually get over the girl. Six months on and it would seem he hadn't. Arthur, unfortunately, had always been a sentimental sort of boy. Something he had inherited from his mother and not him. Rather than excelling at subject areas like politics and law, business studies, Arthur only seemed to win awards in subject areas like Art and Sport. He remembered the awful meeting he had with Arthur's Art teacher in Year 10. She had raved on about how Arthur was exceptionally good at drawing and that he should encourage it. Should encourage it! He'd been outraged. Told the Art teacher in no uncertain terms that Arthur needed to forget foolish things like art, and develop a sound head for business.

In those days Arthur would do as he was told, even if reluctantly. He wasn't full on defiant like Morgana, but now … well now he'd definitely developed a mind of his own, and it was all because of that black girl.

It still rankled him. How she had wormed her way into his heart. To make matters worse she wasn't just black and common, but she was a poor black woman, who no doubt only had eyes on the substantial amount of money Arthur would one day inherit. Why couldn't Arthur see that?

It's not as if the woman was beautiful either. She must have bewitched him in some way, played on Arthur's heart strings. Arthur did possess a sense of ingrained loyalty, but he was loyal to all the wrong causes and people.

He was a lot like his mother in that way and nothing like him. He couldn't help feeling disappointed. What qualities may be admired in a woman, were not in a man. He possessed her kindness but what Uther wanted was him to be shrewd, ruthless in business at least. People only respected out of fear. He wouldn't have gotten as far as he had if he'd been kind and weak. His driving desire was to become the most powerful business tycoon England had ever known. Arthur's driving desire, it would seem, was for a white picket fence, a homely simple wife with half a dozen children. He didn't care for the business at all and had voiced as much, making it blatantly clear is wanted nothing to do with the Pendragon Industries.

What was the point of having a son he couldn't pass his legacy on to?

What was he going to do about Arthur? Why couldn't Arthur be more like the eager young man Leon? Leon was committed, knowledgeable. Arthur just had five months where he could have become well versed in the happenings of the company but what did he do? Hang out with some common, not much more than a boy, who was unusual to say the least. Another lost cause, Arthur had a thing for strays. He collected them at random. People like Gwaine. But Arthur, he had observed in his many visits to Gaius' house, was rather attached to the gangly boy called Emmett. Just because the boy had saved his life it didn't mean he had to be so loyal to him. There was more to it than that, something Uther couldn't quite figure out about Arthur's attachment to him. It was within his power to have the young man posted to another base, far away from Arthur but he had decided against that cause of action. The young man, unlike Gwaine, had a calming effect on Arthur. And for reasons he hadn't been able to yet figure out, he felt he should keep Emmett around, that there was something more to the young man.

His eyes rested on the tall well groomed man, Leon. It was about time Arthur became committed to the business. He was recovered from his injuries now. Leon appeared to be the right man to teach Arthur a thing or two about the business. He was the sort of man Arthur should be friends with. They were of similar age.

It was time he paid Arthur a visit and they had a long talk about his involvement within the Pendragon Industries. Under Leon's tutelage maybe Arthur just might start taking an interest. At any rate it was time for Arthur to snap out of his self-pity and take an active interest in the business.

* * *

What Arthur needed was a drink. There were nights he wanted to forget about life and tonight was one of them. He pulled into the liquor shop on the way home from work and brought a carton of beer.

It was nearing six o'clock when he arrived home. Lugging the carton of beer inside, he dumped it on the kitchen table, where Merlin sat reading.

Merlin looked up startled before shoving whatever he had been reading behind his back. Arthur frowned at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he replied trying to look innocent and failing.

"What's behind your back?"

"Just a book."

Arthur's frown increased, his suspicion and curiosity aroused. Moving quickly he snatched the book from Merlin's hands and looked at it.

"It's a diet book!" he exclaimed, his eyes shooting to his face. "You're on a diet?!"

"I didn't buy it for me," he quickly returned.

Then it dawned on Arthur and he felt his face redden.

"You've been eating healthy dinner's this last week without even realizing it," Merlin continued with a grin.

"Terrific," he muttered under his breath. "I don't suppose you can use magic to make me ten pounds lighter?"

"And the rest," Merlin murmured under his breath.

"I heard that."

Merlin frowned and shook his head. "No Arthur, you're going to have to do that all on your own."

He sighed. He was doomed and ran a hand up the back of his neck. "What do I do?"

"I believe it's a four letter word called diet," Merlin returned, holding up the book with an amused grin, "Oh and exercise would probably help."

Merlin was always quick with some witty retort, "Ha, ha, Merlin."

"Well it's not too late," he began, "You still have a week before Gwen returns."

Arthur froze. Shit. Gwen.

"I'm not about to lose ten pounds in a week," he muttered. "I can't even do any exercise."

"You mean 20 pounds."

He glared at him.

Merlin merely smiled. "It's Gwen, she won't care. Don't worry she'll still love you fat and all."

He folded his arms. "Are you saying I'm fat Merlin?"

A puzzled bemused look crossed his face. "You are starting to get a bit tubby there Arthur." He stared pointedly at his midriff, much to Arthur's chagrin, and raised an eyebrow.

He clenched his jaw. Merlin wasn't helping. "Merlin," he began.

He sighed, amusement in his eyes. "I know, shut up."

Arthur shook his head and opening the carton of beer he began to put the cans in the fridge. Gwaine had invited Percival, Lancelot and Elyan over for a card night. As he often did on a Friday night. Once Gwaine realised Elyan worked at the same base as them it hadn't taken him long to make friends with the young man and invite him back to the Cottage. It also hadn't taken long for Elyan to remember who they all were. There was much astonishment followed by a barrage of questions that Percival patiently answered. Much to Arthur's amusement, Percival had a lot to say in this lifetime.

'_Now it's almost like old times,' Gwaine declared, 'the knights of the round table restored.' _That would then get Gwaine musing about how odd life was, and the meaning of their so called existence in the 21st century. They would all end up getting into some sort of philosophical debate about why they were here, what it could mean, what the future might hold? Gwaine was all for there being some sort of apocalyptic battle where they would have to restore order to the world.

"If there is an apocalyptic battle we'll probably all end dead or incinerated by nuclear bombs," Lancelot would point out.

Lancelot was always the more pragmatic one out of the group. Gwaine had a thing for the dramatic, Percival believed it had to do with the war against terror and Elyan had no opinion. All eyes would eventually come to land on Merlin, what his thoughts were. Merlin would merely shrug, amusement in his wide blue eyes. "I don't know, I guess you just worry about the future when it gets here."

"You're no fun Merlin mate," Gwaine would snort. "You see that's what comes with living for so long you just get more and more laid back."

Arthur enjoyed those moments, and those discussions. It gave him a strange sense of belonging. About the only times he felt it these days.

* * *

Merlin watched Arthur put the cans in the fridge. He debated whether to give the letter from Gwen to him now or wait till tomorrow. Letters from Gwen would often put him in a morose frame of mind, even more than he currently was. It hadn't been so bad the first couple of months, but as time went on and the longer he went without seeing her, the more lethargic and depressed he'd become. Now it was starting to concern Merlin.

"You know beer is loaded with calories," he piped up.

"I'm not following any diet book," Arthur returned.

"How else do you think you'll lose weight then?"

"I-I'll just cut back on drinking ..." he began.

He really needed to but Merlin couldn't see that happening. Not in his present frame of mind.

"So does that mean you won't be drinking a six pack of beer each night?" he lightly quipped.

"I don't drink that much," he scoffed.

Arthur was obviously in denial. And Merlin knew it was a bad habit he'd fallen into from all those months of being able to do nothing.

"I'll stop drinking," he announced, surprising him.

"That'll make Gwen happy."

Arthur stopped what he was doing and turned to him suddenly. "You haven't said anything to her about that have you?"

"No, I wouldn't want to worry her and she'd probably worry if she knew how much you now drink."

Arthur's jaw clenched as a dozen conflicting emotions crossed his face. Maybe it was a bit mean of him to add that part about Gwen worrying, but Arthur seriously needed a wakeup call before his drinking became worse.

"You have a week to get in check," he continued, "before she returns ..."

"And just exactly how are we going to see each other without my father finding out?" he snapped.

"Have you forgotten Arthur," he began, a slow smile crossing his face, "I have magic."

His expression softened and he managed a grim smile.

"Don't worry I'll find a way."

"I don't doubt you for a second Merlin."

Merlin felt touched by his words. Arthur seldom did doubt him these days. Their friendship was stronger than ever now they were no longer constrained by being master and servant. He had always known and understood Arthur's moods. How to effectively get him out of them, Arthur now also had a better understanding of him as well. Merlin was often surprised by some of the astute things he said to him.

He pulled the letter out of his pocket. "You want it now?"

Arthur glanced at the letter in his hand, a look on uncertainty crossing his face.

"Or maybe leave it till tomorrow, you probably won't enjoy tonight if you read it now."

Arthur reached for the letter in his hand.

"You'll be all miserable and sad," Merlin continued.

"I don't get miserable," he scoffed, taking the letter and shoving the letter in his pocket. "Alright maybe I do," he sighed, "but it's more to do with frustration than anything."

"Hmm and drinking alcohol isn't a way to deal with those frustrations."

Arthur shrugged. "Probably not but it helps."

Merlin felt like throwing his hands up in despair. The sooner Gwen was back the better. He missed her almost as much as Arthur did.

"And what would you know Merlin, you never drink."

There was a good reason for that too.

"And it's not that bad …" he continued.

"Yet," Merlin finished for him.

Arthur glared at him and stomped out of the kitchen, no doubt heading to his bedroom to read Gwen's letter. The carton of beer only half put away. Merlin's eyes rested on the cans sitting on the table. He knew all too well the evils of alcohol. Just because he didn't drink now it didn't mean that he'd spent his whole existence without it. There had been plenty enough times in his life when he'd been frustrated, times even when he had had his own short periods indulging before coming to the conclusion that it wouldn't change anything. He sighed and ran a hand _through_ his hair.

* * *

Merlin still had frustrations of his own. He was presently torn in two directions; should he or should he not contact Emelyn? Did he leave the past in the past? Or had fate determined she was to resurface in his life once more? The scrap of paper in his wallet with her number on it was starting to become faded and worn around the edges. It's not like he'd spent his whole life celibate. Just that he avoided falling in love and Emma was once someone he had loved very deeply. Despite now being mortal once again, some old habits tended to die hard.

Merlin looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. He should throw it away instead on continuing to torture himself in this way. Or just ring her. The more he deliberated the harder it became. Besides it had been six months, she'd probably forgotten all about their little encounter outside the tavern that day.

Hearing footsteps approaching, he hastily shoved the piece of paper in his pocket. Gwaine walked into the kitchen.

"Where's Arthur?" he asked, opening the fridge and reaching for a can of beer.

"Gwen sent him a letter. He hasn't resurfaced from his room since. You know what he's like after."

Gwaine sat down, putting his legs up on the table and pulling the tab back on the can. Taking a swig of beer he shook his head.

"His old man is a bigger jerk than mine," he muttered.

Merlin's curiosity was suddenly aroused. He'd also spent the last six months contemplating as to how and why Emelyn existed now, in this time considering she would have a different set of parents.

"Do you still have the same father as you had before?" he asked him.

"My father had died then, before I had the chance to really know him," Gwaine slowly returned, a thoughtful look crossing his face, "but maybe not, I'd thought my father to be something more than what this one is."

"And your mother?"

"She looks sort of the same, but also different, like there is a family resemblance but ... I don't know, it's odd huh?"

He asked Percival the same questions later that night. Percival parents were different, but still held a family resemblance. They had different names and he had only one brother as opposed to three in the previous life. Yet Gwen had the same parents and brother as did Arthur. Why was that? It was a mystery that plagued him. He had to make sense of it. He had to know why Emelyn existed now other than coming to the conclusion it just had to do with Albion. Was she going to be part of his fate after all?

Arthur eventually came down to join them all an hour later. By outward appearance he seemed perfectly fine and jovial enough. But when he thought no one was paying attention Merlin noticed the sad reflective shadows in his eyes. He downed one can of beer after another, even rivalling Gwaine in the amount of alcohol he drank. Least he didn't prattle on nonstop as Gwaine did. Gwaine was overly talkative when sober and after a few drinks he never shut up. As usual the conversation would often fall into past lives.

They would all try to convince him to tell some story about his past, especially Gwaine. He told stories that he knew wouldn't bring him any pain, including the one about the time he became a monk, hiding a smile at the look of astonishment on their faces.

Arthur was the first to break the silence. "Why the hell did you become a monk?!" he exclaimed.

He shrugged. "It was the perfect hiding place."

"Who were hiding from?" Percival asked.

"It was during the Reformation. I had been accused of using sorcery, sound familiar and to escape the witch trails I fled town. I went up to Scotland and hid away in a monastery for a while till the worst of it blew over."

"Of all the places you chose to hide out in it would be a monastery! Are you insane Merlin, why there, those guys would be like the lynch mob?"

"Yeah and the last place anyone would except a witch to hide out in," he grinned, "Besides I got a good education whilst there, the monks were the best educated people in society at that time and I was left alone. As long as I attended prayer sessions every three hours no one questioned you."

Arthur was frowning at him. "I'm having a hard time imagining you laying prostrated on a ground praying." His frown deepened. "And being quiet, especially that."

"You'd be surprised," he muttered under his breath.

Amusement crossed Arthur's face. "How did you go with that vow of obedience?"

Merlin merely folded his arms. "I managed it."

Arthur chuckled. "Really because I can't see you doing as you're told."

He scowled at him, really Arthur had no idea about what he could do when required.

"How long were you there?" Percival asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

"Till the worst of the witch trails was over and it was safe to venture out again, give or take a hundred or so years."

He smiled at the gobsmacked look on each of their faces.

"You went 100 years without talking?" Arthur gasped, as if it was something he couldn't fathom.

"Ah … no, not always …"

"You wore nothing but a tunic for that whole time?" Elyan asked.

"Um, yeah …"

"Did you have to shave a bald spot on top of your head?" Gwaine interjected.

Merlin's head snapped from person to person at the questions fired at him.

"It's called a tonsure and it depended on the order …"

"Didn't the other Monk's get suspicious about your age?"

"I moved from monastery to monastery, entering as a young man and aging myself up as time passed."

"That's … that's clever." Percival looked impressed.

Merlin shot Arthur a knowing look, a smile twitched on his lips; _you see, I'm clever._

"You went a 100 years without sex!?" Gwaine exclaimed, a horrified look crossing his face at the thought.

Merlin titled his head to the side, bemused. "Guess I did."

Gwaine's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "I don't know how you did it or even why, you must have been barking mad?"

"Believe it or not it wasn't that bad, and I just didn't spend my days laying prostrated on the stone ground." He gave Arthur a pointed look. "I spent a lot of that time teaching people how to read and write, studying and preparing medicine, offering shelter to the poor and writing books," he took a breath, "lots of books actually."

He looked up at their incredulous faces. Why did he just feel like he'd sprouted an extra head? Maybe he should have found another story to tell them.

"Why did you leave?" Lancelot asked, the only one not yet to bombard him with questions.

"Writer's cramp from writing too many books," he grinned.

Arthur rolled his eyes and snorted.

"What did you do after that?" Elyan asked.

Merlin inwardly sighed. He was in for a long night.

"I bet you found the nearest pub, got drunk and slept with the first woman you could find," Gwaine quipped.

He shook his head and a perplexed look crossed Gwaine's face. "Okay so you could have had a dozen wives for all we would know," he continued.

"Ah no, I never married."

Gwaine gave him an incredulous look. "You've never been with a woman?!"

"I've been with a woman I've just never married one."

Gwaine frowned. "I can't imagine you being the love them and leave them type of bloke."

"I'm not and why are you suddenly so interested in my love life?"

"Just you're a bit of an enigma at times mate," Gwaine patted him on the back, again. "I think if I'd lived as long as you the amount of women I'd had …"

"Which you've probably already, in your short 25 years, exceeded the amount I've had in a thousand years," he quipped.

The other guys laughed and Gwaine grinned.

"How come you never married?" Arthur asked and Merlin shot him a frown. He wasn't helping with his predicament here.

He began to squirm uncomfortably on the chair. "Believe it or not but I was too busy."

"You had a thousand years Merlin," he snorted. "You mean to say in all of that time you never fell in love?"

He reached for his glass of lemonade as a means of distraction.

"No," he took a sip, "I did fall in love now and again."

He quickly averted his gaze from Arthur's thoughtful look.

Gwaine's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Its official mate, we are going to find you a girlfriend."

Merlin choked on his lemonade, raised watery eyes to Gwaine's. "You what?"

His grin widened. "You're not a monk anymore and you need to get laid and you need to get a wife."

He glared at Arthur. It was all his fault. Arthur nodded in approval, amusement dancing in his eyes. Merlin buried his head in his hands groaning.

* * *

Morgana was always prompt and picked him up at nine in the morning. Both Arthur and Gwaine were still fast asleep in bed. He had been relieved when everyone had left last night and he could finally crawl into bed. His throat had ached from talking so much. Whenever he talked about his past it had a way of haunting him. He'd find himself pondering about those times, re-living the memories. Not that those memories had been unpleasant but it had taken a while to fall asleep.

"You're quiet this morning?" Morgana spoke as they drove to the mental institution her mother had resided at.

"I'm kind of all talked out from last night."

"Don't tell me, a card night, Gwaine got drunk and they all made you talk about your past."

"Yeah, you got it."

She gave him a sympathetic look.

"So what are we looking for at this place we're going to?" he asked.

"I want to find old records about my mother's time there."

"You think Uther had a hand in what happened to her?"

He noticed the way her hands tightly clutched the steering wheel.

"I know he did and I'm going to find out exactly what that was."

A sense of unease crept through him. What would they find out and why did he get the feeling it was going to bad?

* * *

Morgana had to marvel at Merlin's skills, how subtle he was with using magic. Seeing his eyes glow with the warm familiar golden light, as he unlocked the door to the store room that held all of the medical records, made her nostalgic.

"I sometimes find myself wishing I could still do that," she confessed.

"Really?" He sounded surprised, his eyes searching her face. "I thought you were afraid of it?"

"I am and I'm not, if that makes sense?"

She couldn't really explain it.

"Why don't I have magic now?"

"Because it no longer exists."

"But you have it."

"I'm the last of my kind Morgana and I never died."

She shivered at his words and a sadness she couldn't define overcame her. Averting her eyes she slowly turned the handle and the door creaked open.

Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. A shaft of pale sunlight filtered through the bars of the loft window. Everything was still. There was no breeze even to disturb the dust. It felt like time had stopped, hidden within the filing cabinets of lost memories from former patients.

"This place gives me the chills," Merlin murmured.

"You and me both," she returned. "Let's just find the file and get out of here."

It only took half an hour that seemed like many hours, before they found her mother's file. And they made a hasty retreat.

Morgana was glad to get out of there, the outside breeze on her face, like a welcoming caress. She closed her eyes, took in a few deep breaths of fresh air.

"You alright?" concern touched Merlin's voice.

She opened her eyes and nodded. "Yeah."

But for some reason her legs felt unsteady. She shivered.

"Here," Merlin began taking her by the arm, "Let's sit down by the pond."

She let him lead her across the lawn and they sat down on a park bench. Morgana tried to control the emotions she was currently feeling. She hadn't expected that place to bring back a host of unpleasant memories.

The silence stretched out. She finally spoke, in a low, sad voice. "Last time I was there was when I learned …." She took a deep breath. "About my mother's death."

Merlin clasped her cold fingers with his warm hand. The simple touch was soothing, comforting. She glanced at him. Puzzled by the drawn look on his face.

"You didn't like it in there anymore than I did, why?"

"That's a long story for another time and place," he murmured.

She frowned slightly feeling curious, but she didn't want to ask if it were going to cause him pain.

Instead she chatted idly about her job, living on base, how she envied them getting to live at the Cottage. They chatted about Arthur and Gwen. Life in the Army and how she couldn't wait till her time was up and she was out of there.

"I'm surprised you joined the military?" she told him. "You just don't look the type."

He shrugged and gave a small amused smile.

"It's not the first time," he said, surprising her and she glanced at him curiously. "I was a surgical specialist with the 12th Casualty Clearing Station during WWII."

Morgana often forgot that he'd lived a long time. It was something else she couldn't even fathom.

"You were on the front lines in France?"

"You know about it?"

She smiled. "I was doing a major in history at University."

He blinked, looking pleasantly surprised.

"They were mobile military hospitals," she paused for a moment, "You would have been in Dunkirk?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I was in Annezin but then we were ordered to retreat and our unit found itself just beyond the retreating front line in May of 1940, where we opened the hospital in Dunkirk."

Morgana went still as the enormity of his words sunk in. "You must have seen some terrible sights there?" she spoke softly.

He averted his gaze and nodded. It wasn't often Merlin talked about his past and she felt touched for a moment that he'd shared this information with her.

"You weren't an old man then?"

A brief smile crossed his mouth. "Not always, only when it suited me."

She smiled in return, her curiosity aroused.

"Besides I don't think they'd let an old man enlist in the Army," he continued.

"How old were you then?"

"Late 20's I guess."

She wanted to know more, being a history buff and here was someone who had lived through history itself, like the man who always was.

"What happened?" she asked, then berating herself for asking, "You don't have to tell me …" she hastily continued.

"No, it's alright, not often I even think about it now."

Her eyes met his. How young he looked but his eyes darkened with an inner pain. It made her breath catch in her throat. He had lived and suffered some. She lightly squeezed his fingers in encouragement.

He took a deep breath and his gaze drifted out across the still pond.

"We set up the hospital at the Chateau in Rosendael on the outskirts of Dunkirk. I organised a theatre in the drawing room, we were told to expect 700 wounded. They were hectic days in the extreme. Food was all tinned, consisted of bully beef and biscuits and you ate it standing up."

"You would have ended up even skinnier then," she said, lightly nudging him.

He gave a brief humourless laugh. "Yeah."

"You never used your magic?"

"When I could, but the wounded kept piling up in our grounds and the hopeless state of evacuation meant I could really only ease some poor chaps suffering. Given the state of my own exhaustion my magic was weak at the best of times."

His expression was rigid and despite his attempts to keep his voice steady, it still shook slightly. Morgana could only imagine what hell he would have gone through.

"Why did you go there?"

He took so long to answer that she began to think he wouldn't. He was still gazing out across the pond as if lost in another time and place.

"Merlin," she prompted, concerned.

"I was immortal, it didn't matter how many times I put myself on the firing line I always survived so I figured I could at least be useful; be where I was needed the most."

She was still stunned by his words, his frank honesty.

"I don't know how you managed to remain sane?"

"Me neither."

She searched his face. "So how did you?"

His beautiful wide blue eyes, so solemn, met hers.

"As much as there is always the abuse of power, plenty of destruction, there were also many amazing people along the way. It gave me hope, hope that as dark as things may get there is still a ray of light on the horizon."

Her heart constricted at his sincere words. He truly was an amazing person.

"And you never lost sight of that hope?"

He lowered his gaze but not before she saw such torment in those eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Merlin had ended her torment, but his own had lived on and on for many years.

"There were moments were I felt such desolation, moments in Dunkirk when we were left behind, forsaken by England with only the Germans to look forward too."

"What happened?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him because he really did look in need of being held.

"The Germans came, least we now had fresh water to drink and I along with the three other men in my unit that opted to stay behind were put into a German prisoner of war camp."

Morgana's eyes widened, and a slight amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"It wasn't that bad and let's just say I wasn't there for long before I escaped and with the help of the French Resistance found my way back to England."

She sat there in stunned silence. Just when she thought she knew Merlin, she really knew very little about him; none of them did.

"C'mon," he began, getting to his feet, "Let's go get something to eat."

Holding out a hand he pulled her to her feet.

"You're not just the village boy from Ealdor," she murmured as they walked to the car, her heart aching in ways she couldn't explain.

"I haven't really changed Morgana," he replied, putting her mind and heart at ease. "But well … yeah, I guess I'm not quite the naïve boy I was when I first came to Camelot."

* * *

Arthur felt shocking the next morning. Ugh, dry horrors. His tongue felt like sand paper. His head was thumping. What the hell had he'd been thinking drinking so much? That's right he hadn't been. In fact he hadn't been for a while now. He rubbed his forehead as he dragged his legs over the side of bed. He sat for a moment and waited for the head spins to subside.

It had to stop. Merlin was right. Merlin was always right. He needed to get it under control.

The phone sitting on his bedside table began to ring shrilly causing him to wince. He blindly reached for it.

"Hello," he muttered in a groggy voice.

"Arthur?"

He sat bolt upright in disbelief. "Gwen?"

It had been ages since he last heard her voice.

"You sound half asleep."

"I-I just woke up … where are you?"

"I'm back at Camp Bastion now and finally in phone range."

He cradled the phone close to his ear, as sudden relief swamped him. She would be safe there.

"Let's get on Skype."

He probably looked like shit.

"Just give me half an hour."

He needed half an hour to sort himself out and hopefully not look as hung over as he felt. Because he really didn't want her to see him that way.

"I need to have a shower."

* * *

He stumbled into the bathroom, cringing at his reflected image in the mirror. Shit but he did look as bad as he felt. A shower should fix it, he hoped.

He had a quick shower, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Gazed at his reflected image in the mirror, with just a towel slung around his waist he scowled at his physique. What the hell had happened to it?! Merlin was right; again. He had put on more than just ten pounds. Dammit.

He pulled clothes out of his drawers looking for something relatively nice to wear. Throwing one plain and dowdy looking t-shirt after the other onto his bedroom floor. Why the hell did he not own anything nice anymore? He settled for a black t-shirt and pulled a white shirt over the top of it buttoning up against his expanding waist line, frowning.

Maybe it was about time he consulted that bloody diet book Merlin had brought. And just where the hell was Merlin anyway?

"Merlin!" he yelled, poking his head outside his bedroom door. "Merlin!"

Still no answer and he suddenly remembered Merlin was going somewhere with Morgana today.

He hobbled downstairs to the kitchen, drank two large glasses of water, grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and setting his laptop on the table he switched it on. A nervous anticipation took hold as he waited for Skype to upload. They hadn't chatted on Skype for a good two months as she'd been out of range. He pressed the video call button and it started beeping. He ran a hand through his hair. Suddenly her sweet smiling face gazed back at him.

"Arthur."

"Guinevere."

She was such a sight for sore eyes and everything felt right in the world again.

* * *

Morgana pulled up in the driveway of the Cottage. They sat in silence for a moment, the engine still running. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned Dunkirk? He still didn't know why he had? The story seemed to have unsettled her or maybe that was due to her mother's file placed on the back seat of the car.

"You want to come inside?" he asked her.

She slowly smiled and shook her head. "I have a lot of reading to do," she indicated with her eyes to the file.

"Maybe you shouldn't read it on your own." He was worried about what the ominous file could reveal.

She took a deep breath. "No, I think I'd rather read it by myself."

His eyes searched her drawn face. He wanted to say more but thought better of it. It was her call.

"You sure?"

She nodded.

"Okay but it you need me, ring me."

He opened the car door and she grabbed his hand just as he was about to leave. "Thank you Merlin," she began, "for today, I appreciate it."

He smiled. "Anytime."

Merlin walked to the front porch still feeling strangely disturbed, giving Morgana a wave as she drove off. He tried to shake the gloomy feeling he currently felt. It was nothing, mentioning Dunkirk always did leave him feeling this way. Turning around he walked through the front door just as Arthur came barrelling through it.

"Where are you going?" he asked him.

"Clothes shopping," Arthur returned and Merlin frowned after his retreating back.

Clothes shopping, since when had Arthur sounded happy about that? Bemused he shook his head and went inside.

* * *

Merlin set about getting dinner ready. Irrespective of what Arthur said or wanted he was still going to make sure they at least had a healthy dinner in the evenings.

He was so engrossed in cutting up vegetables that he hadn't heard the front door open. It wasn't until he heard the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards that alerted him to the fact; he wasn't alone.

"Is that you Gwaine?" he called out.

But there was no answer and he looked up to see Uther walk into the kitchen. His heart sank. What was he doing here?

"Is Arthur here?" he asked, eyes scanning over him, making Merlin feel like nothing more than a cockroach. Something that should be squashed.

"He's gone … ahh shopping," he returned.

Uther nodded and continued to quietly assess him, which greatly unnerved him.

"You're his friend Emmett?"

He nodded. He'd only seen Uther half a dozen times when living at Gaius' house. Not that the man ever acknowledged him there.

"You've been living here with him?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of like the dogsbody," he replied and managed a smile.

Uther didn't smile in return. Not that Merlin expected him too, if anything he looked a bit troubled. "How has Arthur been?"

So this is why Uther was here. Was he possibly concerned about Arthur?

"Alright I suppose."

He continued cutting up the vegetables as Uther lapsed into silence. This was awkward to say the least.

"Tell me something Emmett," Uther began, almost making him jump, "Is Arthur still drinking a lot?"

"If you want an honest answer ... then yes," he returned, might as well add to Uther's concerns.

"And as a friend you haven't tried to talk to him about it?"

"Believe me, I've tried. He doesn't listen."

Uther sat down at the table, looking even more concerned.

"Last time I saw him I told him it wasn't good for his health but he said he didn't care."

"He doesn't," Merlin added.

Uther glanced up at him.

"Why doesn't he?"

"I think that is something you should ask him," he slowly returned.

Uther fell silent again.

"But your his friend, surely he would talk to you and tell you things," Uther eventually uttered.

"Arthur's never been good when it comes to discussing his feelings," he replied. "He tends to bottle things up inside."

"But is he happy?"

Merlin stopped chopping and shook his head. "I don't think he is." How could he be with a father like you, he felt like adding.

Uther looked away and hiding a smile he resumed his chopping.

"This black girl," Uther began and he tried not riling up at the term.

"Gwen," he corrected.

"They haven't seen each other?"

"No." And that was the truth if he were to discount Skype and letter writing, but technically they hadn't seen each other face to face.

"Does he talk about her?" Uther persisted.

"Not anymore."

Though technically that wasn't a lie. Yes sometimes Arthur did, just not as much.

"But he used too?"

"Yes."

Uther lapsed into silence again. Merlin watched him out of the corner of his eye curiously.

"What can I do to make him see reason, start taking better care of himself, regain a sense of pride?"

"Well I think Mr Pendragon," he began, "You can't really do anything. It's up to Arthur."

"But Arthur doesn't care!"

Merlin titled his head to one side. "Then maybe he needs a reason to start caring again."

So poetically put and he felt proud of himself.

"What if I had him demoted?"

Okay not so proud now and he gaped at Uther in shock.

"How's that going to help? It would only depress him even further."

"Yes, you are right."

He inwardly let out a breath. He heard the front door open, slam shut and Arthur came walking into the kitchen. His eyes widened at the sight of his father sitting at the kitchen table.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too Arthur," Uther replied.

"Just I wasn't expecting you," he quickly said, "It's not like you to call by?"

"I was in the area, thought I would stop by for a chat."

Arthur frowned.

"Emmett and I have just been talking as you weren't here."

Arthur glanced at him, a brief flash of curiosity in his eyes. He noticed the way Uther's eyes rested on Arthur's clothes with disapproval. Arthur's choice of clothes left a lot to be desired for. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt, with a flannelette shirt over the top and black tracksuit pants. Merlin could tell Uther found Arthur's dress sense somewhat appalling.

"What about?" he asked feigning disinterest and opening the fridge door.

"You, naturally," Uther returned.

"That must have made for a riveting conversation," Arthur said over his shoulder.

Grabbing a can of beer he opened it to find his father's eyes on him.

"You want a beer?" he asked him.

Uther shook his head, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"It's a bit early in the day for drinking."

Arthur shrugged and took a swig. His father frowned.

"Do you always drink this early in the day?"

"Only on weekends," he returned, sitting down on a chair, opposite to his father.

"How much do you drink?"

Arthur sighed and ran a finger around the rim of the can. "Don't tell me you drove all this way just to lecturing me about how much I drink?"

"It can't be good for you."

He let out a bitter laugh and took another swig. "No doubt it's not."

"Arthur, I'm your father and it's my right to be concerned," Uther said.

A heavy silence fell. Arthur sat looking disgruntled. Uther appeared frustrated.

"Tuesday night I'm having a social gathering with business associates and I would like you to be there."

"I don't know if I can."

Uther gave him a stern look. "I think it's about time you began to take an interest in the business once again."

Arthur lowered his eyes.

"Please, for me, it's important," he said in a kinder tone of voice.

"Okay," Arthur sighed, surprising Merlin.

Uther's eyes raked over Arthur. "Dress the part Arthur."

* * *

Arthur and Merlin watched Uther leave.

"What do you think he has planned for Tuesday night?" Merlin asked alongside him.

He shook his head. "I don't know but I don't doubt he'll have something up his sleeve."

"You think you should go?"

After chatting to Gwen on Skype this morning Arthur was filled with renewed vigour to do as Morgana suggested and end his father's tyranny.

"You heard Morgana, maybe I should start taking an interest in the business, lure him into a false sense of security."

"I thought you couldn't bring yourself to do it?"

He glanced at him. "I think it's about time I did, about time I started getting pro-active."

Merlin shot him a puzzled frown. "That's a sudden change of heart."

"I'm tired of my father controlling my life."

A slow smile crossed Merlin's face. "Glad to hear it."

Arthur turned on his heel and walked back into the kitchen. Merlin followed. He picked up the can of beer and tipped it down the sink and smiled at the stunned expression on Merlin's face. "I only opened it to piss father off."

"You were right Merlin, as usual," he sighed, "I need to get my drinking under check."

Merlin smiled. "Yeah I'm always right."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Just don't get a fat head about it."

"With you around I don't think that's possible."

* * *

Morgana poured a glass of wine and made herself comfortable on her bed. She reached for her mother's file. The glass of wine was fortitude for what unsettling information she could undoubtedly discover by going through the file. Wishing she had now taken Merlin up on his offer. She could have done with his comforting support and presence right now.

Taking a sip of her wine she opened the folder. Much to her astonishment there was only one page of notes contained within the file.

Where was the rest?

Slowly picking up the piece of paper she began to read.

_Clinical Notes – October 14__th__, 1991_

_Ariana Gaveston, female, age 25, was committed to the institution by Uther Pendragon._

_She was extremely agitated, insisting she was a high priestess of the old religion. She became violent and we had to restrain her._

_Lithium was administered via injection._

_Patient presents with typical symptoms of Schizophrenia – paranoia, suffers hallucinations, delusions, speech is often incoherent._

_The delusions run deep. Patient has fabricated a whole place that doesn't exist. She claims that she possesses magic and this time and place isn't real. _

Morgana stopped reading there and rubbed her eyes, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of her stomach as realization dawned. Her mother was remembering the past life? But for some reason she was living then and not in the present … why? They had remembered and were still sane.

With dread, she continued reading.

_The drug Risperidone doesn't appear to be working. Head Clinical Psychologist Cornelius Samson visited the premises today. He seemed most interested in patient's case. Suggested we try the drug Clozapine. I was apprehensive about this. Clozapine has many side effects, but patient's delusions are extreme and appear to be worsening._

Morgana shivered, taking a gulp of her wine, finding the information deeply disturbing. But the notes ended there with just one closing sentence; _Further clinical notes withheld and kept at Wentworth laboratories pending further investigation._

The glass of wine froze halfway to her lips. Wentworth Laboratories? She shuddered as a cold chill swept through her. She had never heard of them and what did Wentworth Laboratories have to do with her mother? Why were her clinical notes removed? What did they mean by 'pending further investigation?

What investigation?

Slowly placing her glass of wine on the bedside table and closing the file, there was just one thought taking hold in her head. Something was wrong, very wrong and one way or another she had to find out the truth.

.

.

* * *

**.**

**A/N: And yes Leon is back! So many people asked me about Leon returning! I had always planned for him to work for the Pendragon Industries but I wasn't quite sure in what way, but now I do know! **

**Merlin's time as a monk was there for entertainment (it was fun to write) but his time spent in WWII does have significance, as you'll see in later chapters. And yes that is a teaser! Or as River Song from Doctor Who would warn, 'Spoilers.' :)**

**I'm really unsure about this chapter? I've just had so many interruptions when writing this past week that I kept losing my focus, and my place and sometimes I feel this chapter is a bit disjointed as a result? The writing flow also didn't happen in the way I would have liked.**

**Reviews are very much loved and appreciated. Please leave one and let me know what you liked or didn't like (in a kind way).**

**.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for all the supportive and encouraging reviews on the last chapter. I feel really kind of silly for voicing my own doubts. I entirely blame my new laptop for this :) **** It went and died on me. I had been writing on it for the last four years so it was hard to adjust to the new one. But I think I'm slowly getting used to it now. **

**Sorry this chapter has taken me a while to write, you can blame my ever increasing pile of marking for that; sigh.**

**I would really like to thank Ebhg for helping edit this chapter and to bounce ideas with. **

**I would also like to thank icarusLSU support on this story and the ideas he has also helped me with along the way. **

**That said enjoy!**

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**.**

* * *

_**Chapter 3.**_

* * *

Tuesday night came around far too quickly for Arthur's liking. He wasn't looking forward to attending this so called 'get together' filled with his father's fellow stuffy cronies. He would have to pretend to be interested. That was painful in itself. And he hated wearing a suit. He felt like yanking the tie that he'd reluctantly put on, off. The rebellious part of him wanted to piss his father off and dress as a slob. But he did have to try and get into his father's good books. Swallow his pride, what was left of it, for the time being.

He took a deep breath, gave his reflected image in the mirror one last look before turning away. Descending the stairs he made his way into the kitchen.

Merlin was stirring a pot on the stove and glanced his way. Funny how in this lifetime he still did the cooking, he mused. Arthur was proud of the fact that he himself could now make toast without burning it and even boil an egg. Which was more than he was capable off in the last life time. Hell he even made his own bed now, did his own laundering; even housework. Being in the Army he'd had little choice.

"You're wearing a tie," Merlin said, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "You must really want to impress him."

"What I want is this night to be over," he sighed and opening the fridge door he reached for a can of beer.

"You're having a beer?" Merlin remarked.

"I need one tonight, to get through it," he returned.

He closed the fridge door to find Merlin frowning.

"What? It's been three days. I'm only going to have one beer."

It hadn't been as easy as he thought it would be to break the habit. Habits had a way of becoming ingrained.

Merlin returned to stirring the pot. "You want a bowl of chicken and vegetable soup before you go?"

"Yeah sure."

The doorbell chimed.

"That'll be Morgana."

Arthur put the can down and walked to the front door. He opened the door and Morgana stood there, a bottle of wine in one hand.

She looked him up and down, an amused glint in her eyes. "You're looking all dapper for a change," she commented. "Going somewhere interesting?"

"Unless you can call father's board meetings interesting, then ah no."

He stepped back to let her pass, catching a whiff of her perfume. He noticed the plunging neck line of her blouse. Was she still trying to attract Merlin?

"So he's welcomed you back into the fold, I thought you didn't want it?"

"I don't," he sighed, closing the door. "Guess I'm listening to you for a change Morgana."

A look of surprise crossed her face. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I've had enough of him controlling my life."

He saw the approval in her eyes. They began walking to the kitchen.

"I guess you won't be here to share this with me then," she continued holding up the bottle of wine. "It's your favourite."

"I wish I could," he muttered.

"I'll have to share this with Merlin then."

"Merlin doesn't drink."

"I'm sure one glass of wine won't hurt him."

Arthur stopped in his tracks alarmed and turned to face her. "He's not allowed to drink at all, from his head injury, don't even think about talking him into a glass."

A slow smile crossed her face. "It's so cute," she teased, "The way you get all protective over him."

He merely snorted and rolled his eyes.

"And you don't," he retorted.

A sudden warmth filled her eyes. "He is special and there is so much more to him than any of us realise."

So astute, he mused and she was right. They continued into the kitchen. Merlin was filling a bowl with soup.

"That smells really good," Morgana spoke and Merlin smiled at her.

"You want some?"

"Of course."

He handed the bowl to her. Arthur scowled. "I thought that one was mine?"

"Ladies before gentleman," she smirked at him.

"There is a plate of bread on the bench Arthur, you can put that on the table."

He walked over to the bench and picked up the plate, frowning at the darker courser texture of the bread. What the hell was Merlin feeding him now?

"What sort of bread is this?"

"It's spelt bread, and it's better for you."

He scowled at Merlin. "Where's the butter?"

"Butter is loaded with fat."

Morgana, had poured herself a glass of wine and glanced at him, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"You trying to slim down before Gwen returns, worried what she will think about this?"

Taking a step towards him she pinched his side and he swatted her hand away, annoyed. "I'm sure she won't mind the love handles, will probably find you cuddly now."

Soft, amused laughter escaped her throat. He gritted his teeth. "Ha, ha, yes go ahead and tease Morgana."

Picking up her glass of wine she smirked in her annoying way. "That's what sisters do."

He shook his head. "I don't have time for this," he muttered and placed the plate of bread on the table with a loud thump.

She was as bad as Gwaine. In fact she was probably worse. He was starting to get sick of everyone taking the piss out of him about his weight.

Feeling disgruntled he sat down, picked up the spoon and started eating. Merlin was a good cook but that bread was god damn awful. To make matters worse Morgana had grabbed the butter from the fridge and was applying a generous amount of it on her bread.

She smiled at him as she took a bite. "I don't have to worry about it."

He longed to wipe the smirk off her face.

"I can't wait for the day when you do," he muttered.

Merlin merely watched the banter exchanged between Arthur and Morgana bemused. It really was a wonder they hadn't killed each other yet.

"This bread," Arthur began glancing at him.

Merlin could tell he hated it. Trying to get Arthur to eat healthy foods was a challenge in itself.

"A recipe you learnt in your monk days," he continued.

Morgana's spoon clattered to the table, a look of complete astonishment on her face.

"You were a monk!"

Arthur grinned and turned to her. "You didn't know?"

Prat, was the first word to enter Merlin's head. He was sorry he'd ever told them that time from his past. He hadn't heard the end of it since. Gwaine had taken to calling him Friar Merlin. He met Morgana's startled and curious blue eyes.

"It's a long story," he hissed under his breath, feeling his cheeks redden.

Arthur stood up from the table and gave him a wink. "Well I guess you two will have something to talk about now," he said, far too cheerily for his liking.

Picking up his bowl Arthur put it in the sink.

"Yeah you have fun at that board meeting," he shot after his retreating back.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Trust me, I'd rather be talking about your days as a monk Merlin, than chatting with father's boring old business associates."

He picked up his keys from the bench. Merlin noticed the pained look on his face, felt a moment's sympathy for him. He knew how hard it was for Arthur to be civil to his father.

"Just look at the bigger picture Arthur," he softly said.

He shot him a grateful look before leaving.

* * *

Of course Morgana wanted to hear all about his days spent as a monk. Taking a deep sigh he told her about it, not that there really was all that much to tell.

Much of his life was a blur and that moment in time was mostly quiet, but not always uneventful. He had fleeting memories. The coarseness of the tunic against his skin. The sound of children's laughter when he greeted them for their morning lessons. How he'd tell them stories about Camelot, their eager faces, always wanting more. Watching the dust filter through the air on the rays of sunlight as he sat at the desk, dipping his pen in ink to write. The permanent stains on his fingers from the tedious task. How cold it was during the winter months, the belief that sufferance and servitude was edification for the soul.

"What led you to become a monk?" Morgana asked.

They were now sitting on the sofa in the lounge room. She sat, legs tucked under, eyes filled with curiosity about his life. Funny how he didn't mind discussing his past with her. She let him talk without asking one question after another. Unlike Arthur, who wanted to know the what, why and whens.

He hadn't elaborated on the details of why he became a monk to the others but Morgana being a history buff, and knowing she'd appreciate the story, he decided to be more forthcoming.

"It was the 1500's, anyone judged to be a heretic under the medieval Inquisition was burnt at the stake, and sorcery was also deemed a criminal offence."

"When hasn't it been," she lightly quipped, but her voice held a bitter irony.

He glanced at her. "Not these days."

Her eyes rested on the wine glass in her hand. "They wouldn't burn you at the stake but what do think would happen if you were to suddenly perform magic in front of people?"

She had a point. No doubt he'd been seen as some sort of freak.

"Is that what happened back then?" she continued, "Did you get accused of sorcery?"

He nodded.

"I became friends with an amazing young man when I was studying at Oxford."

"You studied at Oxford?" she interrupted in wonder.

What he hadn't told the others was that he was already well educated by the time he joined the monastery.

"Yeah."

"And this young man?"

"He was a passionate Protestant, wrote many books which were deemed controversial and made him a wanted man. He was in favour of the principle of other religious toleration."

At that time in history there had been none. The one religion was the way of life and it very much controlled society. The crimes committed in its name never to be forgotten. It still made him shudder.

"A group of us supported him and we ended up imprisoned in a cellar due to his possession of what the University's officers considered 'heretical books.'"

"How long were you imprisoned?" she gasped, eyes widening.

Longer than he cared to admit.

"Several months. When we were released from prison he went to London and I went to a friend of mine who lived in Reading and was a school master there."

"You were Protestant?" she asked in disbelief.

A wry smile touched his lips. "I wasn't really anything, didn't know what to believe half the time, but John … well he had a way about him, and a way with words. He made me want to believe."

It had been a long time since anyone had. He had never encountered anyone like him.

Morgana blinked, mulling over his words.

"Faces of people become blurred with time, all you are left with is an impression. But I still remember the convictions of his heart. He was able to see the lack of tolerance towards religious beliefs that differed from Catholicism and wanted to bring about change."

He'd lived his whole life having to hide what he was. John was a refreshing breath of air. He found himself drawn to the man.

"John, who was desperate and destitute came to Reading several months later. He was still very much a hunted man and I helped him escape to Antwerp. He wanted me to go with him, knew I was at risk for staying and most of all abetting him."

"But you didn't?"

He slowly shook his head.

"He came back to England still believing that he could change things four years later, but soon as he did he was arrested. Refusing to deny his own beliefs he was sentenced to death. I tried to help him escape from Newgate prison using my magic."

_John had stared at him in disbelief, moving slowly towards the bars that separated them, gripping the bars tightly with his hands. "Elias … how did you get in here … the guards?"_

"_There is something I never told you John, something about me that you don't know, no one does," he began, unlocking the prison door._

_He would have to use magic to release the shackles around John's ankles and wrists. It was inevitable. "Please don't think less of me," he murmured, before his eyes glowed gold and the shackles fell from John's wrists and ankles._

_He'd never forgotten his words. "Who are you … what are you?" _

_He didn't sound horrified but Merlin still couldn't bring himself to look at him. Instead he took hold of John's wrists, which were scraped and bloodied and murmured a healing spell. The sores faded from his wrists. Merlin slowly, painfully lifted his eyes to John's._

_But what he expected to happen next did not. John, rather than being horrified, looked upon him with amazement._

"_My mother told me it was a special gift that I was born with," he murmured. "It's not sorcery," his breath hitched in his throat as emotion got the better of him, "I'm not a sorcerer."_

_Voices could be heard yelling in the courtyard below and a bell began to toll. _

_John grabbed his hands. _'_You have to get out of here Elias, if they realise what you are they will burn you at the stake.'_

_He gazed into John's desperate eyes. Sudden relief hitting him. "You don't hate me?"_

_His hand rested on his shoulder. "God has given you this gift, I know your heart Elias, it's pure and none can contest your loyalty."_

_Tears pricked his eyes. All these years he wanted to talk about what he was but couldn't for fear of retribution and this man, a Protestant Priest, believed his magic was a gift from god. The relief he felt. But John's next words brought back an old familiar pain he didn't want to acknowledge; Arthur. _

'_You can't save me.' _

_He drew in a deep sharp breath._

'_You have to run Elias, leave me here.'_

_No, not possible. It wasn't an option._

'_If I leave you here you will die!'_

'_Then I die as a martyr and I won't be the first or the last. Maybe this is how I am meant to die. You'll see Elias, it'll bring change one day, hope that a time will come when there will be religious freedom.' _

_Guards could be heard running down the corridor. He dreaded the worst. John wouldn't come with him and there was no way he could convince him otherwise. He looked at him through pain filled eyes. No … no … he was always losing in this world called life. Always having to let go of people he had cherished. Always saying goodbye. _

_John gave Merlin one last desperate look. 'I'll never forget you my old friend, God be with you,' he murmured, the pain in his eyes was more than Merlin could bear. It doesn't have to be this way … only maybe it did. Sucking up what was left of his strength and resolve, Merlin ran and he kept running, never looking back as the tears blurred his vision. Was there no one he could save? Is this how his life was always meant to be?_

"You are going to pull all of your hair out if you don't stop Merlin," Morgan spoke beside him, breaking him out of his reverie.

So lost in the memory he hadn't realised he'd been tugging on the ends of his hair. He gingerly lowered his hand.

"Sorry," he murmured, voice hoarse, "Got lost in time."

"I'm sorry, I feel bad for making you remember."

He slowly shook his head, and gave her a sideways glance. "Don't be. I don't mind talking about it, not with you at least."

A faint hint of colour tinged her cheeks. "Then you don't mind telling me what happened next?" she asked.

"I was seen using magic in my bid to escape and had to flee. I travelled northwards, unsure on what to do."

_Heart breaking at the loss of his friend. It was always the same. He couldn't keep doing this, becoming attached only to lose over and over again._

"A month later I reached Scotland and heard that John had been accused of heresy and was burnt at the stake. It was 1533."

He heard Morgana take in a sharp sudden breath.

"It affected me in many ways and I began to become jaded and disillusioned, becoming a monk was a way to escape, lock myself away from the world for a time and find peace."

He'd welcomed the silence, glad he didn't have to talk. Having his head shaved was cathartic in many ways. He was done with the world, with time, with everything. The many hours of prayer were strangely comforting. As the years passed by he began to feel at peace within himself again. A restoration of his soul.

Raising his eyes he met with Morgana's sympathetic gaze.

"You always have a need to fix hopeless causes Merlin?"

He managed a weary smile. "Maybe I do." Took a deep breath. "It's not as if they died for nothing, change did come. Even if slowly, it still came all the same."

Shaking his head to clear it, he pushed the memories back to where they belonged. Forced a smile to his lips. "Hey and I did learn how to speak and write fluent Latin."

She smiled in response before her face grew serious. "Does it hurt to talk about it?"

He sighed. "Yes and no. When I re-live the moment I still feel but it's a feeling that has been dulled by time. One thing I've learnt is that I can't live my life by what happened yesterday. Otherwise I would have ended up a basket case by now."

She smiled slowly, shaking her head. "I did end up a basket case remember," she lightly quipped, but there was a faint hint of regret beneath her words.

"Yeah well you did have Uther for a father, can't help your parentage and he'd be enough to drive anyone mental."

She managed a shaky smile.

He'd had enough talking about himself. No need to go there. No need to re-hash their screw ups. They all had plenty enough of them. Time to change the subject.

"Have you read through your mother's file yet?" he asked.

Her eyes darkened. "What there was of it."

Raising the glass to her lips she took a sip before taking a deep fortifying breath.

"There is something very wrong about her case, something I haven't been able to figure out. But her clinical notes were removed to a place called Wentworth Laboratories."

He looked at her with open confusion.

"The weird thing about all of this Merlin is that Wentworth Laboratories doesn't exist. Well it doesn't now and I haven't been able to find anything out about it."

"What does it have to do with your mother?" he asked.

She shrugged, looking unsure. "I don't know, but it can't be good and it has to involve my father in some way."

"Are you sure?"

"He was the one that had her committed to the institution. In what little there was to read, my mother, it would seem, believed she had magic."

"You think she did?" he murmured, shaking off the unsettling feeling deep in his gut.

Her haunted eyes met his. "What if she did and my father found out and had her committed to the mental institution or worse still she become nothing more than a specimen to him?"

"But your father doesn't remember," he finally spoke in a low voice.

"Not consciously."

An uneasy silence fell as they sat, taking in the enormity of her words. The ominous ticking of the old grandfather clock echoing down the corridor. Making Merlin think of how fleeting time was for some, how long his own life had been.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked at length.

"I don't know, seems like I've hit a dead end."

"And Uther?"

Her eyes darkened with doubt and worry. "Might know more than we think."

* * *

Arthur drove up the driveway to the mansion. It had been many months since he was last here. One beer wasn't enough to relax him and he found himself longing for another one.

He had no sooner walked through the front door when he saw his father. He tried not to scowl at the sight of him. Recalled Merlin's words 'just look at the bigger picture Arthur'. Find a way to bring his father down and then they could all be free. It pained him, in more ways than he cared to admit. He wanted to believe in his father, believe that he wanted the best for his son. And maybe he did in his own sick distorted way.

"There you are Arthur," his father exclaimed and crossed the floor to greet him.

"Glad to see you could make it and looking the part once again."

Burying his resentment he forced a smile to his lips. "Hello father."

His father shook his hand, resting his other hand on his shoulder as he eyes swept over him. Seeming satisfied enough he led him along. "There is someone I want you to meet."

Terrific, another boring business colleague he mused as he followed his father.

"This is Leon, Leon Payne."

The tall man turned around at the mention of his name. Arthur suddenly felt as if he'd been sucked into some kind of time void. His mouth dropped open … Leon?! It was really Leon! He looked just as Arthur remembered only now he was wearing a suit as opposed to chain mail and the red cape. His hair was shorter, combed neatly but still wavy. His beard was short and also neatly trimmed. He could hardly believe his eyes, tears blurred his vision. '_It is you that people love, and you that they will lay down their lives for. I know that I would ride into the mouth of hell for you'. _

"Arthur," his father murmured beside him, "What is wrong with you?"

He blinked back the tears that threatened and pulled himself up with a start.

"Sorry," he began, holding out his hand, "Just you remind me of someone I once knew."

Leon shook his hand in a warm grasp. His eyes met with his. And Arthur could see no recognition in them.

He bit back his disappointment. Now he knew how Merlin must have felt all those months, being alongside them, no one remembering him.

"Leon is our latest employee and is doing a wonderful job," his father enthused.

"Thank you Mr Pendragon."

Leon always had been polite and well mannered; incredibly loyal. And he was bloody well working for his father! The irony or was that fate toying with them all again?

"I think you could learn a lot from him Arthur," his father continued.

He froze … what?

"I know you're back at work now, but maybe you could spare one day a fortnight learning about the 'ins and outs' of the Industry and what better person to teach you than Leon."

Arthur fought back the ironic hysterical laughter that threatened to escape. Still he didn't want to sound too keen just yet and cause any suspicion from his father.

"I don't have a lot of time," he began to protest.

"Nonsense Arthur," his father dismissed, as he always did. "You are basically working standard office hours now."

Relegated to office duties which only served to remind him of how useless, physically, he was for the time being.

"Okay," he sighed in a reluctant voice but already his mind was working overtime.

If he could get Leon to remember, then he would have someone his father admired to work for him. An ally in exposing his father. It was a far cry from Camelot days. Back then he still believed in his father. How had he ended up so jaded? Oh that's right. It was the 21st century and his father had Gwen exiled to hell.

His father patted him on the back. "Excellent. I'll let the two of you get acquainted."

Leon looked unsure of what to say. Arthur decided to put him at ease.

"Don't worry, I'd rather have you teach me the 'ins and outs' of the business than my father."

"Your father is very inspiring."

Arthur tried not to pull a face and spying the waitress walking past with a tray of champagne glasses he reached for one. Terrific Leon hero worshipped his father. If only he knew. Taking a sip of the champagne, suddenly remembering he wasn't supposed to be drinking. Not as if Merlin was here to scold him.

He looked up to find Leon scrutinizing him a way that made his heart beat just a tad faster. The sooner Leon remembered the better. Maybe he needed a helping hand with that.

"Why don't I give you a grand tour of the mansion," he began, placing the glass down on a nearby table, "my father has a thing for collecting old relics."

Leon's eyes lit up. "I'd like that, I have a thing for such relics myself."

Arthur smiled, no doubt you do he felt like saying.

"Well I think I have something you might be very interested in seeing."

He led Leon out of the dining hall, down the long corridor, stopping now and again to view the many portraits of past ancestors.

"It must be nice to have such a long history," Leon spoke, a wistful note in his voice.

Arthur turned to look at him. "You don't know of yours?"

"I was adopted, never knew my parents."

He blinked, momentarily surprised. It wasn't that way before. Arthur found himself wishing he'd been adopted.

"Least you don't have a pile of expectations placed upon you as a result. The many shoes I'm expected to fill," he muttered.

Confusion crossed Leon's face at the jaded tone in his voice. Arthur shook his head.

"C'mon wait till you see the conservatory."

He hadn't really noticed before but it was odd how most of the furniture in the conservatory was considered an antique. It would be worth a bloody fortune. Tapestries lined the walls, reflecting a bygone era of past kings and queens. The old style writing desk in the corner still contained old ink wells and fountain pens.

"Feels like stepping back into the past doesn't it," he remarked to Leon.

Leon merely nodded. "Yes … it does," he murmured seeming in awe of the room.

They moved on, visited the library, banquet hall and study before heading up the stairs, eventually coming to Arthur's bedroom.

"These are my chambers, well were," he gestured with his hand, pushing the door open.

"Chambers?" There was an amused light in Leon's eyes.

"Bedroom as we call it now."

He switched the light on. "There is something I want to show you."

Walking over to the wardrobe, he reached up to a flat top cupboard and slowly lowered the case that held the sword. Leon was watching him curiously.

Arthur placed the case onto his bed and opened it. Gazing down at the sword for a silent moment. It had been a while since he'd last laid eyes on it.

"That is magnificent," Leon whistled beside him.

Arthur picked up the sword and held it up to the light. Just feeling it in his hand once again brought back a rush of forgotten memories.

"I think about the many battles it must have fought in," he murmured, voice thick with repressed emotion. "It's over a thousand years old."

_Remember me …_ the words whispered through his mind, like a soft gentle breeze making him frown. Merlin's spell? Had he put a spell on the sword? Merlin had used magic so often on Arthur's legs that he could almost feel it himself. Feel his magic, but that was crazy, he silently scoffed.

"And still in such amazing condition," Leon remarked jolting him out of his thoughts.

He glanced at him, noticing the look of awe on his face. He handed the sword towards him. If Merlin had put a spell on the sword then maybe it would help Leon remember.

"Have a hold of it."

Leon's eyes lit up. "Really?"

He nodded at him.

Leon gingerly took the sword from him and gazed at it in much the same way he had a moment ago. Intrigued, Arthur watched his face closely, gauging his reaction. He looked lost in another time and place. Then the dreamy expression on his face suddenly changed to one of confusion. He lowered the sword and handed it back to him.

Arthur took the sword from him, frowning as Leon rubbed his forehead. "Are you alright?"

"Um … just … for a moment I saw something," his voice broke off there and he gave a nervous laugh, "I think I just need something to eat and possibly a decent night sleep."

Arthur fought back a knowing smile. The process was in motion.

"The hors d'oeuvres should be out by now, let's head back downstairs and get something to eat."

* * *

Arthur sipped on a glass of water and continued to gaze out the window in thoughtful contemplation. It really was a strange life he lived. Leon might not remember yet but it was only a matter of time. He couldn't wait to tell Merlin and Gwaine. Gwaine would be thrilled, now the Knights of the Round Table were completely restored. They may not be what they once were, but they were all here. For whatever the future held.

Right now Arthur had only one thing on his mind; Gwen. She would be flying back home on Saturday. Merlin and Elyan were going to pick her up from the Airport. It should be him. Though since she had been back at Camp Bastion they had chatted on Skype for the last three nights, which had been a handy distraction in stopping him drinking. But it was hardly the same. He longed to touch her, make sure she was real and not some figment of his imagination. At night he would lie in bed thinking about all the times she had been in his arms, kissing him, making love to him. Then he would abruptly stop his thoughts from going there as quickly as they came.

He couldn't remember the last time he had sex. It must be something ridiculous like close to two years. Merlin went without sex for a hundred years. Two years paled into insignificance in comparison. He couldn't imagine Merlin with girls. Probably because he'd never seen him with one. Watching him moon over that piece of paper with Emma's number, his face reddening when he questioned him about it had surprised him.

How had he lived for so long and denied himself love? The thought strangely bothered him. It just wasn't right. He could see Merlin living through the centuries, fighting for the brotherhood and freedom of men, denying himself a life along the way.

Well that would have to change.

"Arthur," his father called.

He inwardly groaned. He wasn't in the mood to engage in chit chat with his father. He turned his head in time to see his father approach him. What now? Couldn't he be left in peace? It was about time he headed back to the Cottage.

"There is something I need to ask of you."

Something not good no doubt. He raised an eyebrow.

"I would like you and Morgana to stay this coming weekend."

Yep, definitely not good. He quickly formulated an excuse in his head.

"Family matters Arthur."

His curiosity was suddenly aroused. Since when did Uther care about family matters?

"My sister, Kateline," he began, a look of distaste crossing his face, "Has decided it's time we made up and call a truce."

His father had barely mentioned her. He knew he had an older sister. Often wondered as a boy why his father never saw her.

"I haven't seen her for 20 years," he continued.

You do have a way father with pissing off family members, he felt like saying.

"You probably don't remember her?"

He shook his head.

"Her daughter died a couple of months back, very tragically and she has since had a change of heart."

"What did she die from?"

"What?"

"Her daughter?"

"An aneurysm."

Was his father really so callous that he couldn't even attend his own niece's funeral? Or even tell them about it? And why did he have a falling out with his sister? What was it over?

"Have you told Morgana?"

Because she had never mentioned anything about it to him.

"I called her tonight," Uther replied and then his expression darkened. "She was with that boy."

Merlin? How did his father know about that?

"There is nothing romantically happening between those two, trust me I would know," he hastily added.

The last thing he wanted was his father to start targeting Merlin as well, like he had done to Gwen.

"I'm glad to hear that," his father sighed.

Naturally he would be, the bitter resentment returned.

"Dinner will be served at 7.00pm Saturday night. You and Morgana should stay the night. It's been a while since we have all caught up."

A nostalgic look crossed his face. "The house hasn't been the same without you both here."

Arthur was at a loss for words.

"You will come then?"

He slowly nodded and his father smiled, his hand resting on his shoulder. For once his father looked pleased with him. It caused a lump to form in his throat.

"Thank you Arthur, I know it's been a difficult time for you but you'll see everything will get better from here on out."

His heart constricted in his chest. If only that were true. He wished, more than ever, that it would. But knowing it wouldn't.

"I should head back to the Cottage, it's a long drive."

His father's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"I appreciate you coming tonight."

Would he stop being so bloody nice!

"What did you think of Leon?"

"I like him."

His father nodded in approval. "Good."

Arthur smiled tightly at him. "See you Saturday father." He had to get out of there.

His heart beating heavily in his chest as he left.

* * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Arthur returned to the Cottage. He wasn't expecting anyone to be up, though he couldn't wait to share the news of meeting Leon with Merlin and Gwaine. He let himself inside the cottage, was about to throw his keys on the coffee table when he saw Merlin fast asleep on the couch, a book resting on his chest. It slowly dawned on him that Merlin had probably stayed up to make sure he arrived safely home. And for moral support. Felt touched by his thoughtfulness. But Merlin seriously worried too much about him and not nearly enough about himself. He was stubborn in that way.

Quietly placing his keys on the coffee table, Merlin began murmuring. Arthur could barely make out his words but the more he listened the clearer the words became. He was speaking in an older form of English, not quite old English. Funny how he could now understand it since his memories had returned.

"I d-don't know … don't know myself anymore … who I am … forgive me."

His words made Arthur freeze momentarily. He watched the painful emotions flicker across his face. Whatever he was dreaming about it certainly wasn't pleasant. Unable to see him so obviously distressed he crossed the floor and lightly shook him.

Merlin woke up startled. He blinked in confusion. Jesus, what the hell had happened to him to put that agony in his eyes? It left him feeling deeply disturbed. Merlin seemed dazed and out of it causing Arthur's concern to increase.

"Merlin," he spoke, his voice urgent.

He glanced up at him, visibly relaxing as recognition dawned. A slow smile crossed his face. "Arthur."

Merlin may act like he had it all together, and he probably did in comparison to the rest of them, but there was still a fragile vulnerability about him.

It anything happened to him … The world just wouldn't be the same.

"How did it go?" he asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Interesting."

Sudden curiosity flittered across his face.

"Just let me get a drink and I tell you everything."

He walked into the kitchen.

"You're having a beer at this time of the night," Merlin called after him.

"No," he returned, yanking the fridge door open and grabbing a carton of choc milk.

He returned to the lounge room to find Merlin lost in deep thought.

"Must have been some dream," he remarked.

He glanced up at him, the carefully concealed mask stealing over his face. Arthur was used to seeing it now. He opened the carton and drank straight from it.

"You know there is a thing called a glass," Merlin quipped.

He snorted.

"You going to drink all of that?" he continued.

"I'm thirsty."

"I believe water is good for that."

"Shut up Merlin, there are other more important things to discuss than what I'm putting in my mouth," he muttered, shoving his legs off the sofa and sitting down next to him.

"You know how many calories are in a litre of choc milk, you probably do. I don't know why I bother trying to help you lose weight. I'm beginning to think it's a lost cause," he prattled, causing Arthur to scowl at him.

There really were times when Merlin was totally frustrating. Did he prattle on like this to merely piss him off or was it because he just couldn't help himself? But he was also beginning to realize that Merlin often prattled about useless stuff as a means of changing the subject away from himself.

"I met Leon," he blurted out.

That shut him up. He smiled at the startled look on Merlin's face.

"He's working for my father," he continued. "Father, in his infinite wisdom has decided that Leon should teach me the 'ins and outs' of the business."

Merlin blinked, surprised, then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "That's … ironic."

"I'm surprised you're not prattling on about it being fate," he remarked.

He glanced sideways at him. "I didn't think you believed in it anymore."

Arthur sighed heavily. "My life is certainly weird enough."

"Did Leon remember?"

He shook his head. "No."

They both fell silent for a moment before he turned his head to look at Merlin. There was one thing he had to know.

"Did you use magic on the sword?"

He blinked, surprised. "How did you know that?"

A frown dented his forehead. "I felt it."

"You did," he murmured, a startled but pleased look crossing his face.

"What does that mean Merlin?"

"Well," he began, "You are I are connected in some way, remember the time I sent you the ball of light in the cave."

How could he forget that, Merlin, unconscious and dying still trying to save him.

"Before you didn't know about my magic so you were not aware of it but now that you do and I've used it on you since then … you are able to detect it, feel it," he paused, a look of excitement lighting up his face, "maybe even hear it."

He hadn't seen Merlin this animated in a long while.

"I did hear words."

His eyes flew to his face. "What words did you hear?"

"Remember me."

His eyes widened. "Those were the words I spoke."

It gave Arthur chills, but in a good way. "So I'm suddenly going to have magic too."

"No," Merlin scoffed, "But you are in tune to it and that's something," his voice broke off there, "Something rare these days."

Arthur smiled feeling suddenly pleased. He wasn't a total ignoramus anymore. The smile quickly left his face as a thought took hold.

"That doesn't mean you can ramble inside my head and know my thoughts does it?"

Sudden amusement danced in Merlins eyes followed by that familiar mischievous glint. "I might."

He didn't believe him. "Okay so what am I thinking right now?"

He tilted his head to the side, rubbing his chin with a hand. "I should listen to Merlin, Merlin's always right, he's never wrong. I'm always going to do what he tells me to do."

Arthur snorted. "You're full of shit Merlin," he mocked scoffed, nudging him with his shoulder.

They exchanged a smile, and Merlin nudged him back.

He closed his eyes, a sudden fatigue washing over him. It had been a rather emotional and unusual night. He dragged himself to his feet.

"Think it's time for bed."

He glanced back down at Merlin, knowing how he struggled with moving when tired. Reaching out a hand, he pulled him to his feet, scrutinizing him. He needed to get into that thick head of his that he didn't have to look out for him every minute of the damn day.

"Uh oh I've seen that look on your face before," Merlin began.

Arthur frowned at him. "You shouldn't have waited up for me, you nag me about my eating habits but you're really no better when it comes to looking after yourself at times Merlin."

He lowered his eyes. "I wasn't thinking about that," he murmured somewhat sheepishly.

"Guess I'll have to help you up the stairs now," he grumbled.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

He briefly recalled the way Merlin had lugged his heavy body around in his attempt to save him, that fateful day, in the other life. The last thing he saw was Merlin's sad face, begging him not to leave. He swallowed the lump in his throat as they trudged up the stairs. Maybe Merlin was right about fate and all? Of course he was. _'Have faith Arthur'_ a voice, from long ago, whispered in his head.

"Merlin."

"Yes Arthur."

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

Merlin always had given reality to a world he had need of. With him there everything was so much more alive.

When they reached the top of the stairs he turned to face him. "I don't know what I would do without you."

His expression was the closest thing he'd seen it approach to shyness, before he smiled widely. "Yeah, you'd be totally screwed without me."

He grinned in return and punched him in the arm.

The smile left his face, replaced with a scowl as he rubbed his arm. "What was that for?"

"Stop you getting a fat head about it."

Merlin shook his head, muttered something under his breath about him being a prat, and stumbled to his bedroom. A slow bemused smile crossed Arthur's face, before he turned around and headed to his own bedroom.

.

.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, please review and give feedback if you can. It is always and very much appreciated. I especially love hearing about people's favourite scenes and I'm always open to ideas. **

**John is based on an actual person (I spent many hours researching). His name is John Frith, some of you might know of the history? I didn't until now and it really moved me. How he died was exactly as I had written and his beliefs too. Nine other people were imprisoned in the cellar with him (in his Oxford uni days), but their names are unknown. I figured Merlin could be one of those nine people and it was John's death that catapulted him into joining the monastery. **

**So much of our past history is really grim! You know there were bad things but you don't realise just how bad till you begin to research it! I think I need to find some happier moments back there for Merlin :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter! Work was hell last week of term and I was away on a holiday down south this last week gone. But here is another nice long chapter to make up for it. With luck you shouldn't have to wait so long for the next chapter. **

**Once again many thanks to ebhg for taking the time to edit this and give me feedback. Thanks also for the many reviews. They always make me smile and brighten my day.**

**Enjoy!**

**.**

* * *

_**Chapter 4.**_

* * *

Gwaine was bored. The usual Friday night card game was called off. He thought about going to the pub but strangely he wasn't in the mood for it tonight. Then his eyes rested on Merlin. Merlin curled up on the couch reading a book.

As much as Merlin was pretty much the same in every way, there was also something different about him. Was it a quiet determination? But then he'd always been that way, no it was something else. More like a calm acceptance of what happened around him. Is that what came about with having lived for so long or was that from being a monk for a hundred years? At times it really did Gwaine's head in.

He was curious by nature. It had often gotten him into trouble. But he was okay with that. It kept life interesting. His own predisposition for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and finding his way out of tight situations were moments he revelled in. But would a day come when he'd become an old man and lose that curiosity? Is that why Merlin was so laid back about everything? Merlin would have lived through so many difficult times and yet he seemed unaffected by it. He was an enigma. Different, special and important. Everything really did seem brighter when he was around. As it always had.

Gwaine had spent many hours reflecting over his life in Camelot, avoiding the memories of how his life had ended there. Feeling as if he had failed everyone. All because of some blonde haired pretty young woman, whose face he could no longer recall, yet he could still feel the same sense of betrayal. In the heat of the moment, hurt, angry and confused, he'd made a stupid decision. A decision that had cost him his own life and the life of Arthur.

'_We have all made rash decisions in the heat of the moment Gwaine_,' Merlin would reassure him.

Merlin was about the only person he could talk to about that time, the shame he felt. It's as if he understood that sense of failure on a level that no one else had; could.

'_It still led to something good, it allowed me to kill Morgana and bring an end to her tyranny. It brought about peace.'_

Gwaine hadn't looked at it like that before.

'_It ended how it was supposed to end.'_

Merlin had a way with words, was wise and infinitely patient. Arthur wasn't the only one who was protective over him. Gwaine might act like the jovial buffoon in front of everyone else, and he did like to have fun. Mostly because having fun kept the dark doubtful thoughts that flittered through his mind at bay. But there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for Merlin.

It made him feel lucky. He'd lived long enough in both lifetimes to come to the conclusion that there really were moments in time when someone very special came along. It was never forever. But it would always happen when one needed it the most. That day in some village pub, the tall skinny kid with a mouth was someone after his own heart. The boy was witty, charming and unusually kind. Gwaine was drawn to the kid instantaneously. How could he not. Merlin would change the shape of his life and its destiny. Merlin brought out in him the person he was always meant to be.

"Funny how life goes," he murmured out loud.

Merlin looked up from his book, a question in his eyes. "You getting philosophical again Gwaine?"

"Yeah. I get like that when I'm bored," he returned. "Don't you ever get bored Merlin?"

Stupid question, of course he didn't. He had lived the life as a monk for a hundred years and that … that would have been hell boring.

Merlin tilted his head to the side in contemplation. "No, not really, been too busy most my life. I don't mind the quiet times."

"Busy doing what?"

Merlin's gaze shifted away from his. "I wouldn't even know where to begin on that one."

And getting Merlin to talk about it was easier said than done. A thought began to take hold in Gwaine's mind, and a slow smile crossed his face.

"I think it's about time we visited that little antique shop of yours."

* * *

How had he gotten talked into this? Merlin continued to chide himself as he collected his jacket from the coat hanger. Gwaine had enlisted the help of Arthur and between the two of them he'd given in. But on one proviso. He was driving.

"That'll take twice as long," Arthur muttered under his breath.

"You don't have to come," he returned, knowing that Arthur was just as curious as Gwaine, even if he hid it.

"Not like there's anything else to do," he grumbled as they walked to the car.

"There's always Gwen. Not chatting with her tonight?"

"I was, until Gwaine walked in."

"They were blowing each other kisses," Gwaine quipped.

Arthur shot Gwaine a murderous look and Merlin smiled.

"I was not blowing kisses," he muttered through gritted teeth, pushing Gwaine away from the passenger door. "You can sit in the back."

Gwaine merely laughed. "C'mon princess admit it."

No matter how much Gwaine teased, Arthur wouldn't admit to it. And Gwaine was like a dog at a bone, once an idea took hold in his head he wouldn't let it go. The bantering continued as Merlin drove.

"Then there were the lovey dovey eyes they made at each other."

Merlin laughed. Arthur sat with arms folded, looking unimpressed.

"Oh Arthur I love you so much. I miss you. I can't wait to run my fingers through your golden hair," Gwaine continued, mimicking a girl's voice.

"Merlin do you have any swords in that shop of yours?" Arthur asked in a low voice.

"Yeah. Why?"

"So I can run Gwaine through with one."

Gwaine laughed at that. "Like to see you try. You're so unfit you wouldn't stand a chance against me now."

Arthur turned in his seat and glared over his shoulder at a grinning Gwaine. "Have you even picked up a sword this lifetime?"

"No, but I'm sure it'll come back to me."

A malicious glint flickered in Arthur's eye. "You care to test that theory?"

Gwaine folded his arms, gaze steady and nodded. "Yep."

Merlin sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not taking the two of you to the shop so you can sword fight. This isn't an ego trip. You can both just nip the male testosterone in the bud right here and now."

"Merlin, mate, you're no fun," Gwaine grumbled.

"He's right," Arthur added beside him and Merlin shot him a glare. "You're beginning to sound like an old man."

Merlin gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped up.

"Careful, Merlin, you might yet hit the speed limit," he continued with a quick amused grin.

* * *

The late afternoon sky was a dusty pink as the lake came into sight. Still as breath takingly beautiful as it always had been. Merlin didn't expect the sight of the lake to cause the same sense of sad nostalgia. Not now that Arthur was back. For the last sixty years he'd walked the path along the lake, often thinking about all that had been lost, how different life was; how much had changed.

He pulled into the car park atop the hill. Now a tourist spot.

"Why are we stopping here?" Arthur asked.

Merlin took a deep breath. "Something I want to show you." Something Arthur should know, for reasons he couldn't explain. Only a thought had come to mind and he had to follow through with it.

Climbing out of the car, Arthur and Gwaine followed. There was a slight chill in the breeze despite it being summer. He zipped his jacket up and walked across the pebbled stone floor to a nearby stone wall.

"This doesn't look like a shop," Gwaine remarked.

"We're taking a detour," he began, "Think of it as a history tour."

"Great, I love history," Arthur dryly muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Merlin stood atop the lookout for a moment to catch his breath.

"I know this place," Arthur murmured beside him.

Merlin glanced sideways noting the sudden stillness of his face. Did he remember it?

"I-It's … you brought me here," he stammered.

"Yes."

Arthur's breath hitched in his throat, eyes widening. "I died here?"

Merlin was unable to answer for a moment, despite all this time, emotion still got the better of him.

He nodded.

Arthur slowly turned to gaze out over the lake.

All three of them, stood in silence as past memories took hold.

"C'mon there is something I have to check on," Merlin finally spoke, breaking the silence.

He continued down stone steps that eventually smoothed out onto a sandy path. The trees around him rustled but there was no other sound. No hint of a breeze down here.

He finally reached the shore.

"Lake Avalon," he said over his shoulder, "Well it used to be."

A sudden desire to enter the water overcame him. He acted instinctively and began walking into the water.

"What are you doing Merlin?" Arthur asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

He ignored him and continued to walk into the lake, stopping when the water reached his thighs. Raising a hand he held it out across the lake. His eyes glowed gold as he murmured those foreign words. It had been a long time since he'd last uttered them. Searching for answers that never came. He didn't know why it would be any different now? Perhaps because Arthur was back. But the lake lay still and unmoving, apart from the ripples across the water his magic had caused.

The lady of the lake was still dormant as was the magic. He lowered his hand and sighed. Nothing had changed yet.

Swallowing in disappointment he turned around and walked back to shore.

"Merlin?" Arthur began hesitantly, "Care to fill us in anytime soon?"

He glanced up at Gwaine and Arthur. For a moment he expected to see them in their familiar chainmail and red capes. It was almost surreal seeing them dressed so. Both wearing jeans, Gwaine a black leather jacket, Arthur a dark blue sweater. Both peering at him with curiosity, as if he was some sort of apparition.

"Your sword," he began, "I threw it into that lake."

Arthur frowned. "Why?"

"It's not something that should fall into anyone else's hands."

Arthur still looked perplexed, confused, a question in his eyes, _'why did you bring me here?_'

"I put your body in a boat and sent it out over the lake as well, right from this very spot where we stand."

Arthur blinked, eyes scanning the lake, an array of different emotions flickering across his face.

"Over there," Merlin continued, pointing across the lake, "Is a village and my antique shop."

Arthur's face softened as a certain realization dawned. "You waited by the lake for me?"

A slow sad bitter smile crossed Merlin's face. "Not always, just now and again."

When he became burnt out by life, too jaded. Sometimes he needed a break.

"And the last sixty years before joining the Army." He smiled. "And meeting you lot again."

He'd called it retirement.

"C'mon this is where the fun starts now."

"About time, this place is kind of depressing Merlin," Gwaine returned.

Arthur grabbed him by the arm as he went to walk past them. Merlin stopped and looked at him.

"What were you doing a moment ago Merlin?"

He could see this was something Arthur needed to know, wanted to understand. He had promised no more secrets.

"I was trying to summon the lady of the lake," he slowly replied.

"And?"

"She is no longer there, magic is still dormant … I thought it might start stirring again now you've returned."

Arthur nodded, as if trying to understand but Merlin could see the confusion in his eyes.

"What does that mean?"

"It isn't time yet, I think."

They continued walking along the shore. Merlin felt stronger than he had in a long while. It was as if coming here had restored some of his health. His head felt clearer. He was able to walk faster. The left side of his body felt … normal. There wasn't the usual stiffness.

"This lady of the lake," Arthur began, falling in step beside him. "Who is she?"

"Her name was Freya."

It was a story Arthur didn't need to know. He hastened his stride, eager to get to the tunnel.

"How is it Merlin that you can suddenly walk so fast?" Arthur continued, struggling to keep up with him.

Merlin stopped in his tracks causing Arthur to almost collide into him. Yes … how was that? A faint whisper echoed across the lake. An excitement took hold. Maybe the magic wasn't as dormant as he thought. He spun around to face Arthur.

"I stood in the lake," he stammered, running a hand through his hair, "in the water."

"Yes I know," Arthur returned impatiently, "your shoes are wet now."

Merlin looked down at his feet, muttered a spell and glanced back at Arthur.

"Not anymore," he grinned.

Arthur was carefully scrutinizing him. "You've done that before haven't you?"

His smile widened. "Yeah, when a certain prat tipped a bucket of water over my head."

A flicker of a smile hovered over Arthur's lips, before disappearing and the confusion returned.

"You are not making any sense Merlin?"

"I think the water had a healing effect on me."

Arthur was still frowning.

Merlin merely smiled. "I feel great. I should have done this sooner."

"Just remember who to thank," Gwaine butted in, gesturing to his chest with his thumb. "Me. This was my idea after all."

Arthur watched Merlin scamper up the hill with Gwaine in tow. He glanced over his shoulder and took one last look at the lake, feeling a peace he couldn't explain steal over him. There was something unique about this place, something special; something important. He shook his head to clear it, now he was starting to get Merlin's funny feelings.

"These tunnels were built during the second world war," Merlin explained as the dense shrubbery began to clear away from his raised hand revealing a stone, sealed narrow arch. "For weapon storage mostly. They even go under the lake."

"What is that? Batman's cave?" Gwaine quipped.

"Even better," Merlin returned.

Gwaine and Arthur exchanged a quick glance before following him. Merlin closed the arch behind them and they were cast into sudden darkness.

"Anyone think to bring a torch?" Gwaine remarked.

"We don't need one, we have Merlin remember."

And on cue the walls lit up with fiery torches. Merlin gave them a quick wide grin.

"This way," he indicated with his head and they followed.

The tunnel was exceptionally wide and high, the floor filled with pebbles.

"For all we know Merlin you could have been the one responsible for the superhero comics. After all the notion had to have come about somehow," Gwaine chatted as they walked.

"Believe me I wasn't."

"So you weren't like some sort of secret vigilante? Donning a costume and fighting the streets of crime at night using your magic?" he continued.

Merlin grinned over his shoulder. "I had plenty of disguises, and I used magic when and where I could but I was no superhero."

"Still doing it all behind the scenes and getting no recognition," Arthur spoke softly, at the remembered words of his death bed.

Warmth filled Merlin's eyes as he too shared the memory. "Once they would have burnt me at the stake, and now I'd probably be seen as some sort of freak or even worse some sort of alien life form. They'd probably lock me up in Area 51 and do all sorts of experiments and tests trying to figure out what I am."

That thought alone made Arthur shudder. Merlin was right. Just like before, what and who he was would always have to remain a secret.

"I don't think there will ever be a place for people like me," he sighed. "It's not about glory, or power. I've seen enough of the destruction that causes."

Arthur glimpsed the brief despair in his eyes, and shivered again. No doubt he had and he couldn't even begin to imagine that.

"So you've kept your magic a secret all this time?" Gwaine asked.

"Mostly, sometimes I slipped up."

They came across a wooden door. Merlin didn't even need to utter a word. His eyes glowed and the door sprung open. Arthur still found himself marvelling at Merlin's magic. He certainly didn't view it in the same way he had done in Camelot days, but then he'd already lived 24 years in current day and those bigoted types of views had long changed.

He stepped through the door and found himself in a warm cosy cavern of sorts, filled with all sorts of ancient artefacts. The room hummed and brought on a rush of nostalgia, causing his throat to tighten. Shields and tapestries from a thousand years ago hung on the stone walls. Old wooden tables lined the walls filled with an array of different trinkets and ornaments. Wooden shelves lined one of the walls, containing scrolls, tomes of books.

Arthur slowly turned around on the one spot in amazement. Gwaine let out a long low whistle.

"After the second world war I set up this place, took me years," Merlin spoke.

Arthur turned to face him, feeling suddenly concerned. "What if this was to be found Merlin?"

"Not possible," he returned with a shake of his head. "These tunnels no longer exist and there is no record of them having ever been made."

Arthur frowned. "How …"

"I made sure of it." Merlin smiled. "I have my ways."

He then turned on his heel and walked towards a spiral staircase, carved into the stone wall.

"Follow me."

Gwaine glanced at him. "Our friend is full of surprises," he remarked.

He was indeed.

The spiral staircase led to a room, a rather cluttered room.

"This is my office," Merlin said.

Arthur glanced at the window. It was dark outside now. He turned around but the staircase and door they had just entered was replaced with a fireplace.

"It's …" he spluttered.

"An illusion," Merlin finished for him.

He stepped forward and ran his hands over the wooden mantle. "But it feels real."

"It's not."

He kept running his hands across the mantle in disbelief.

"Picture the door in your mind and the staircase," Merlin instructed.

Arthur tried but every time he looked all he saw was the fireplace. "I can't."

"Try harder Arthur. It's a trick of the mind. If you defeat it you will always see past the illusion."

Merlin's voice was strangely compelling. He closed his eyes and waited till he had a clear picture of the door and staircase. When convinced the picture was concrete enough in his mind he opened his eyes and much to his amazement there was the door. He stepped forward, turn the handle. The door swung open and he peered down the staircase.

He quickly turned around, eyes met with Merlin's in amazement.

"You did it," he grinned. "Who'd ever think?"

Arthur suddenly felt proud of himself. He'd seen through the illusion; him. Of all people.

"I better go turn off the alarm," Merlin said and quickly disappeared out of the room.

He turned to Gwaine excitedly. "Did you see that?"

But Gwaine was distracted with investigating a number of boxes sitting on the shelves.

"This looks interesting," he returned over his shoulder.

"That could be private," he pointed out.

Gwaine shot him a mischievous grin. "Let's hope so."

He pulled an old ancient looking wooden box from the shelf and placed it on the nearby desk. Arthur wanted to protest but finding his own curiosity aroused he moved to the table, pulling his reading glasses from his pocket.

The box contained letters and a couple of black and white photos. Gwaine picked up several letters, peering at them.

"These letters are all from the same person," he spoke.

"What I leave you two for a minute and you're already going through my things," Merlin remarked.

"You have a lot of interesting stuff here Merlin," Gwaine replied without looking up from the antique wooden box he was fossicking through.

Arthur picked up a photo of a person that looked very familiar and then it clicked.

"This is a photo of you Merlin," he gasped.

He peered down at it closely. Given the clothes Merlin was wearing it must have been taken a good fifty or so years ago. It was the oddest thing. Seeing a photo of the very said person now standing in front of you.

Gwaine leaned over his shoulder. "Nice haircut, very forties," he grinned.

"Merlin, you have a cigarette in your hand," Arthur exclaimed in disbelief.

Merlin just shrugged. "It was the forties, everyone smoked then. No one realised it could one day kill you."

"These letters are from a girl called Marie," Gwaine observed.

He picked up a photo and turning it around read. "Love always Marie."

Merlin snatched the photo out of his hand.

"She's hot."

He glared at him, putting the photo back in the box, shutting the lid.

"Was she your girlfriend?" Gwaine continued unperturbed.

"No."

Merlin put the box back up on the shelf.

"You have a fling with her?"

His face reddened slightly.

"You did!"

He nodded. Trust Gwaine to point it out.

"C'mon mate, spill the beans," he continued.

Merlin shot Arthur an imploring look. But Arthur looked as interested as Gwaine. He was no help.

"It wasn't a fling and it wasn't smutty if that's what you're thinking."

"Of course it wouldn't be, you were a monk after all." Gwaine drawled.

A wry smile touched his lips. If it shut Gwaine up then he would, so called, spill the beans.

"She worked with the French Resistance."

Did he have some stories to tell! No one knew even a fraction of what he had done.

"I'd escaped from a German prisoner of war camp and I happened to stay with her before returning to England."

She had nursed him back to health. Even now he could recall the scent of her hair, how soft it was to touch.

He glanced up to find both Gwaine and Arthur's eyes glued to his face in fascination.

"Her husband had been executed by the Gestapo not long before I met her."

So many days she moved in robotic fashion, living but not really there. So was he.

"She was grieving. It was more of a comfort thing." He shrugged, as if that's all it was.

Her words echoed in his ears.

'_I see the same pain in your eyes. You have suffered grief. You understand what it is to lose everything that ever mattered to you.'_

'_Yes.'_

_Shadows darkened her eyes. Pain etched in the lines bracketing her mouth._

He drew a deep breath. "We sought relief in each other's arms and one thing led to another."

'_I want to feel alive again … I just want to feel … anything but this numbness.'_

_So did he … so did he. Clutching her face gently with both his hands, he softly kissed her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears. Need he hadn't felt in a long time swamped him. He just wanted to forget everything he'd ever seen, every horrible sight, every agonised scream uttered. Noises and sights that had haunted him for years. _

_In fervent haste he rained kisses over every square inch of her face. He could feel her pulse quicken beneath his thumb pressed against her neck. Her need matched his own. She wanted to forget, as much as him. Her arms weaved around him, pulling him close._

'_Make love to me.'_

_Somehow they made it to the bed, pulling clothes off in random haste. Before he collected her in his arms and they fell back onto the bed, arms and legs entangled. _

_It was intense._

_It was beautiful. A connection in body and spirit. Finding solace in the only thing left, each other. _

_Simple, human contact._

_He had locked all of his pain deep in his heart for so long that it now came tumbling out. Much to his shame. Tears streamed down his face._

_She held him. Long into the night. Till the sobs that racketed his body subsided. He fell into an exhausted sleep. _

"Merlin!" He felt a hand tightly grip his shoulder, blinking he looked straight into Arthur's concerned expression.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

But rather than answering, Arthur turned to Gwaine annoyed.

"Don't ask him about his past again."

Gwaine just nodded, alarming Merlin.

"I just didn't say anything then did I?" he hesitantly asked.

Gwaine patted him on the shoulder. His face a bit grim. "You didn't need to mate."

Great. Terrific.

"It wasn't that bad," he stammered, "I mean those six months were …

"Something else," Gwaine finished for him, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

"What happened to her?" Arthur asked.

"I went back to England, she married again and had a couple of children."

"But you kept in contact?"

He nodded. "We wrote letters, until she died in 1980."

Her letters meant the world to him. He clung to them, only knowing nothing would last forever for him.

"What did she die from?" Gwaine asked.

"Old age."

As everyone else before her. He didn't want to see pity in their eyes. It was his living reality after all. He had had a long time to come to terms with it.

Gwaine as if sensing his discomfort, and seeming to want to lighten the mood, said. "So where are those swords?"

Merlin should have realised Arthur and Gwaine wouldn't forget about the sword fight. He let them at it. Welcoming the change in topic. It proved a handy distraction after all. Put his mind back into the present and out of the past.

They were back in the cavern.

Gwaine was holding a sword in his hand.

"C'mon tubby give it your best shot," he taunted.

Arthur gave Gwaine the death glare, picked up the sword and twirled it in his hand. Merlin sat on an old rickety stool and watched in amusement.

Gwaine might not have picked up a sword in this lifetime but he was still handy enough with one, even if somewhat rusty. Arthur had definitely had more experience but he was at a disadvantage due to his leg. They went back and forth, the pace starting to pick up as Gwaine became more adventurous with his strokes which Arthur deftly blocked.

"You're looking a bit out of breath there princess," he quipped. "You need to work at getting your fitness back."

"I feel fine," Arthur shot back. "But I see your sword fighting skills are not what they used to be."

"Neither are yours."

"I'm just toying with you Gwaine," Arthur smiled.

Gwaine, starting to get the hang of it, took a swipe which Arthur blocked once again.

"I'm the one making the more aggressive moves, I don't see you doing the same."

"I'm just waiting for the right moment."

Plus he was hindered by his injured leg, though he hid it well, Merlin observed.

"Admit it princess," Gwaine teased, "It's because you no longer have the physical strength and you're unfit. You seriously need to get your ass back in the gym …" his voice broke off there and much to his astonishment Arthur had disarmed him.

Sword pointed to his throat. A look of triumph on his face. "You were saying?"

Gwaine scowled. "You just got lucky," he muttered, shoving the sword away from his throat.

"No, like I said I was waiting for the right moment," he grinned. "It feels good."

It might be the 21st century. Arthur might have a bung leg. But he still proved to be very much skilled with the sword.

"You hold onto that feeling Arthur because it's only a matter of time before I beat you," Gwaine retorted and turned his head to look at him.

"Hey Merlin, can we take these swords back to the cottage?"

"Alright."

If it meant Arthur would get back to exercising then why not. There was a certain light in his eyes he hadn't seen in a very long time. And it was a good thing. Watching the two of them sword fight was just like old times. It gave him a warm tingling feeling. He never thought he'd ever see this again.

They made their way back into the shop.

"Does this mean we have to walk back to the car?" Arthur grimaced.

His leg was aching, not that he was about to admit it. But the thought of walking all that way back to the lookout was something he wasn't looking forward to.

"I don't suppose you can use magic to bring the car here Merlin?" he continued, turning to face him.

Merlin was standing at the counter, going through mail that had been piling up.

"It would look a bit odd I think."

Arthur sighed and sat down on a nearby chair. Gwaine was inspecting the different old relics in the shop.

"Hey Merlin there is some old codger at the front door," he announced.

Merlin looked up quickly. "It's Bob." A smile lit his face, moving from behind the counter he quickly went to the front door and opened it.

The man that stood there looked positively ancient. His eyes wandered over Merlin without any recognition.

"Who are you?"

The smile left Merlin's face. "I'm Emmett, Marven's grandson."

"Is Marvin back?" he asked.

"No, sorry, he's been ill, staying with my mother."

The old man was obviously disappointed but also suspicious. "He never mentioned you."

"Well that's because he never knew I existed until 18 months ago."

"Is that why he left?" the old man asked.

Merlin nodded. "You see my mother was adopted and she had been trying to, for years, find who her real parents were. Eventually she discovered that Marven was her father. Once Marven found this out he went to see her. Us actually and has been with us ever since."

Arthur was amazed by the sincerity on Merlin's face. He was the expert liar, but then this was something he had had to do all his life; lie.

"I was hoping to catch up with him, it's been months."

Merlin nodded but Arthur noted the brief shadows in his eyes. Merlin was Marven. He was the one that was friends with the old man standing at the door. How weird that must feel.

"I hope he gets better soon. Give him my regards."

"I will."

Merlin closed the door and leant against it for a moment. A look, Arthur couldn't define, on his face. It must suck to have to spend your days as such, always living a lie, getting attached to people, watching them age and then die. And suddenly Arthur was able to define the look on Merlin's face; loneliness.

Merlin glanced at him and the look vanished, as if it had never been there at all.

"I'll go get the car," Gwaine offered, "Princess here looks all done in."

He was, not that it was about to admit it to Gwaine. Gwaine really didn't need any more fodder to tease him with.

"Thanks Gwaine," Merlin threw him the car keys and Gwaine left.

Arthur carefully watched Merlin as he made his way back to the counter.

"Marven," he began, "That's the best you could come up with?"

A quick smile crossed Merlin's face. "You try being original with names after a thousand years."

Then his eyes rested on his leg.

"It's bothering you isn't it?"

Merlin, always astute. He nodded.

He stopped, crouched down and raising a hand he murmured, _'gestathole'. _ Eyes turned gold. Arthur didn't think he would ever stop marvelling at how Merlin performed magic.

"The old man," he began, curious, "you knew him well."

Merlin nodded before straightening up. "He used to call in all the time. I'd brew a pot of tea and he'd prattle on about the war years."

"Which you lived through."

"Yes," he said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Which reminds me," he continued, turning abruptly on his heel. "I need to do a death certificate for Marven."

Arthur watched him disappear into the back office and followed out of curiosity. Amazed at how much better his leg felt.

Merlin the whizz kid, he mused.

He was sitting at the desk, and had switched the computer on. Arthur grabbing a nearby stool, pulled it across to the desk.

"How are you going to do a death certificate?"

Merlin held up a finger. "Watch and learn."

Arthur sat down, watched in amazement as Merlin hacked into the general register for Births and Deaths website. He marvelled at how easily Merlin was able to create a death certificate for Marven. He'd obviously done this before.

"So you have a birth certificate too?"

"Yeah."

Merlin showed him his birth certificate. "You see, I was born on the 16th January 1991, mother Hunith, father unknown."

"But Hunith wouldn't exist?"

"I've already done a birth and death certificate for her too."

"What about the census?"

Merlin gave him a patient look. "That's easy to fill in. I just lie, like I always have done."

"It must suck Merlin, to live you whole life a lie," he softly said.

Merlin blinked and averted his eyes. "I'm a myth Arthur, that's all I can ever be."

But it wasn't right that Merlin was forced to live his life so.

"I've started an enquiry into Gwen's case," he continued, quick to change the subject. "An investigation as to why she was given two Tour of Duties back to back."

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. "How did you do that?"

A brief smile hovered at the corners of Merlin's mouth. "I have my ways."

He most certainly did.

"I never realised how clever you were Merlin."

"Yeah well I've had to be."

Merlin returned his attention to the screen and was now opening an email account for some bloke's name he'd never heard before.

"I sent an anonymous letter of enquiry to this guy. He is the one who oversees what soldiers get posted to which base."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. "Seems he wasn't aware of Gwen doing a back to back tour at Camp Bastion. He's now looking into it."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he exclaimed.

"I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. Once this guy knows about it there is no way Gwen can be sent back to Camp Bastion when her R&R is finished. She will have to be posted to a base in England."

Arthur was stunned, then amazed and then thankful. He'd be screwed without Merlin.

"You know Merlin you truly are amazing," he murmured.

"Yeah I know," he grinned but Arthur detected the sudden shyness in his eyes.

It amazed him that after living all of this time, Merlin was still often shy.

"Have you told Gwen?"

He shook his head. "No, maybe when I see her tomorrow."

Arthur took a deep sigh. "Lucky you. You get to spend the night with Gwen and I get to spend the night with my father," he bitterly muttered.

It wasn't fair. He would have to spend the whole of tomorrow night having to be civil to his father when all he wanted to do was tell him to 'piss off'. And knowing that Gwen would be home, with Merlin and her brother, him forbidden to see her.

"Don't worry, you'll get to see her soon enough," Merlin reassured.

"How?"

Merlin grinned. "I have a plan."

No doubt he did. "Care to fill me in Merlin?"

"What. And ruin the surprise."

Arthur shook his head bemused. But he had total faith in him.

"Oi you two!" Gwaine called out from the shop, "Taxi's here."

* * *

The austere mansion came into view as Arthur drove up the long winding driveway. His heart sank at the sight. He glanced at Morgana.

"The sooner this is over the better," he muttered.

He had picked her up from the base along the way. And for morale support. Least he wouldn't be alone.

"It's only for the night. I'm sure you'll survive."

If only he was sure of that.

"I know where I'd rather be," he continued.

She shot him a sympathetic look. "With Gwen."

He nodded. "I could swear Father arranged this weekend because she was returning."

"I'm even surprised he's decided to make amends with Aunt Kateline."

"Something in it for him do doubt," he returned.

His father had motives for everything he ever did. Arthur couldn't understand how anyone could live their life that way.

"Apparently she has her granddaughter living with her now. I hear she's a handful."

His father hadn't mentioned any granddaughter.

"The loss of a mother can do that though," Morgana continued wistfully.

Neither of them had ever had a mother. Cursed both lifetimes in that way. If there was one thing he could change it would be that. To experience a mother's love. Maybe his father would have been different if she hadn't died. He recalled Merlin's mother, Hunith. How much she loved Merlin. He had envied him that. Not that he would ever tell him.

"What's her name?" he asked.

"I'm not sure."

He parked the car. They both climbed out and Arthur retrieved their overnight travel cases from the boot. Morgana was staring up at the mansion, her expression unreadable. A light breeze blowing a strand of her long dark hair across her cheek.

He handed the case to her and she took it from him. Turning to look at him they exchanged a knowing look.

"Are you going to behave?"

She gave a small mischievous smile. "Now where would be the fun in that?"

He sighed and shook his head. If anything he should get some entertainment at least.

"Whatever you do, don't talk about Merlin. Father's already getting suspicious of you two spending time together. We don't need him banishing Merlin next."

Her face darkened. There would be hell to pay if father did, given her expression, Arthur mused.

They walked towards the front door and Arthur pushed the doorbell. He could hear it echo ominously down the corridor.

"I guess the fun begins," Morgana grinned.

He frowned. She still had a weird idea of fun.

"Lighten up Arthur," she continued, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Gwen will be in safe hands with Merlin."

"Lucky him," he muttered. "How I wish we could change places right now."

The door opened and the house maid ushered them inside, taking their cases.

"There you both are," Uther exclaimed, appearing from the doorway that led into the lounge room.

He hugged a stiff Morgana and shook his hand.

"Glad you could both make it. I don't think either of you have met my sister before? You might remember her Arthur?"

He shook his head.

"Never mind. She is here now and you can both get to know her."

If she was anything like his father, then it wouldn't be happening.

"Is she anything like you?" Morgana asked.

Trust Morgana to be blunt. Always saying would he wanted to say but never could.

"We are nothing alike."

"Then I think I should like her," Morgana quipped.

His Father's face hardened briefly. Arthur braced himself for the retort but it never came. Much to his surprise. Father was obviously putting on his best behaviour whilst his sister was here.

"Let's go to the sitting room. I've asked Rosemary to serve brunch there."

Arthur briefly wondered why his father had a falling out with his sister. He exchanged a glance with Morgana as they followed him. Surprised she hadn't asked this question yet. He was about to prompt her when they entered the sitting room and he kept his mouth shut.

"Kateline," Uther spoke as they entered, "Arthur and Morgana are here."

A woman in her late 60's, standing near a window turned around. She was elegantly dressed. Quite tall and slender. Her hair cut into a sleek bob. She smiled warmly and walked across the floor to greet them.

"Why Arthur I haven't seen you since you were a small boy," she spoke, embracing him.

He was surprised by the warm reception.

"Hello Aunt Kateline," he mumbled.

She pulled back and her eyes swept over Morgana. "And you were just a toddler Morgana and now you're all grown up and very beautiful I might add."

Kateline hugged Morgana in the same way she had hugged him. Morgana smiled sweetly at her.

"I'm so glad that I've finally gotten to meet you Aunt Kateline."

Her words carefully chosen with the subtle underlying meaning to them. He could see the slight scowl on his father's face.

"You should be proud of yourself Uther. Having such fine looking children."

Her blue eyes sparkled and rested on him.

"You look so much like your mother Arthur," she continued, glancing at his father, "Is he not just like Ygraine Uther?"

His father nodded. "In some ways," came his terse reply. "And where is your granddaughter Kateline. I'm sure Morgana and Arthur would like to meet their cousin."

Kateline turned around, eyes searching the room. "She is here somewhere."

Arthur watched her cross the floor towards a two seat settee in the far corner. A girl was sprawled across it, eyes glued to her iPod.

"Emma," he heard her lightly hiss, "Please don't be so impolite and come and meet your cousins."

The girl shot Kateline a glare. "I'm only here under duress grandmother."

A frown began to dent Arthur's forehead, a nagging thought in the back of his head. Emma, where had he heard that name before?

He watched the girl begrudgingly drag herself from the settee. She would probably be all of 18 or 19 years of age. And his father thought he dressed bad, Arthur mused. This girl's whole appearance was like, _don't mess with me_. She was wearing black tight fitting jeans on her slender frame, a blank tank top with bright glaring pink writing on it, '_If you think life's a bitch then you haven't met me'._

Arthur nearly spat out the mint in his mouth when he suddenly recalled the name on the piece of paper that Merlin carried in his wallet; Emma.

Nah, couldn't possibly be her. It was a common name after all. His eyes rested on her face as she approached them. He tried to recall the girl from the tavern all those months ago, but he had only a brief glance at her. It was hard to tell if she was the same girl, given the thick black eyeliner she wore.

Her too short hair was slicked back. Her eyes were a pretty brown with flecks of green in them. There was a familiarity about her. The way she held herself … it reminded him of someone. He swallowed hard. Mithian.

"This is my granddaughter Emelyn but she prefers to be called Emma," Aunt Kateline introduced.

She held out a pale hand and Arthur shook it. His eyes coming to rest on her face, an unsettling feeling taking residence in the pit of his gut.

But it couldn't be … she could not be Merlin's Emma. Not this girl with the punk attitude, and look to match. She couldn't have been his once granddaughter!

"I'm Arthur." He managed a smile.

She looked him over with disinterest.

What the hell was her problem now? His eyes met with hers. Eyes that were not so dissimilar to Gwen's. A slight frown dented her smooth forehead. Was she having a thought? Did she remember him from the tavern?

He swallowed again and realization dawned.

Shit. She was now his cousin. No … not possible. It couldn't be; could it?

There was only one way to find out. Merlin. He would know. He turned to face Aunt Kateline.

"You and Emma should come at stay at the Cottage," he suggested. "It's lovely this time of year."

"That's a wonderful idea Arthur," Uther enthused. "Arthur's been living there since being based at Aldershot."

Aunt Kateline smiled warmly. "That would be lovely wouldn't it Emma?"

Emma's eyes met with his and she blinked, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. "I guess."

Merlin was what she needed. He would sort her out.

Arthur's smile widened. "Terrific I'll look forward to it. Perhaps we can make it next weekend?"

The sooner the better.

"We are free then," Aunt Kateline replied. "That would be perfect."

* * *

Later that evening Morgana pulled him aside.

"What are you up to?" she whispered in his ear.

"I was just being friendly."

"You would subject the poor girl to Gwaine?" she quipped. "Though I don't think Gwaine would stand a chance. She's a diehard feminist. I think she hates men more than I do."

Just great, Arthur dryly mused and rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on.

"And I thought I was bad at her age," she continued ruefully.

"You were."

She lightly punched him in the arm.

"Anyway it would be a good chance to find out why Aunt Kateline and Father had a falling out."

Morgana nodded. "Yes, we might unearth some interesting information there."

His gaze drifted across the room to where Emma sat. Arms folded, legs crossed, a bored look on her face. He sipped the glass of wine in his hand. He was going to try not to drink. But then he hadn't expected Emma either. Now he really needed a drink more than ever. Feeling disturbed. His life had just gotten even weirder.

"I wonder what Merlin would make of her?" Morgana spoke.

Arthur nearly choked on his wine. His eyes watered. If it was his Emma, and the more he studied the girl the further he came to the conclusion she probably was, Merlin was in for a …. Surprise. Or more like shock. The same sort of numb shock he was still feeling.

'_You see what's become of my granddaughter, Merlin. You have to fix this!'_

Turning his head to look at Morgana, he said with a wry smile. "Guess we'll find out next weekend."

.

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* * *

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**A/N: Emma makes her grand appearance, or more like troubled appearance. Now I'm most curious to see what people think? And Merlin's going to have his hands full trying to sort her out. But that will keep it interesting.**

**Everything that happens in this chapter is of significance later down the track.**

**Please review and tell me what you think. What parts you liked the most. It's always nice to hear what people enjoyed about the chapter.**

**Gwen will also make a return next chapter. Things are set to heat up!**

**Cheers and thanks for reading.**


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